The garden of Spring still awaits the renewal
tho summer here the unplowed has no jewel.
How long will you go with the soil left un-tilled
distracted by trivia with no purpose fulfilled.
While anger doth dim the light’s lifegiving boon
does reason enlighten to brightness of noon.

Take reason abroad where the field lies inert
un-turned and unused serving nothing but dirt.
Till up your anger and then plant the seed
that reason facilitates in meeting your need
to overcome idleness beset wo with fright
by working your field from the dawn until night.

With reason and love you may plant your desire
to blossom with nourishment undimmed by your ire
and free to come forth to a joyous age
ignited by love quite untrammeled by rage.
Your wisdom bears fruit as by reason you’re wise
and discern where your passion expresses no lies.

To lay idle in sulking will no harvest bring
no time to be wasted with Anger as king.
Make peace with your brother let bygones be bye
for life’s much too short to live mad — then to die.
A back turned on harmony and what have you then?
Your sorrow and absence for what might have been.

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