The roiling pot

The roiling pot taken

Off the stove no longer

Boils over.

The angered man taken

Out of the home no

Longer seethes.

For the force is fuelled

By an inner fire

Burning hot.

And I know I am not peaceable

Gentle nor kind when

Thus placed.

So I shall no longer judge

The violence, the spite

Around me.

For I know not the furnace

That brings out the rage

And won't rest.

A lesson sore learned, and

A heart wide open to see

What I can become.