Emphasis: Balancing Act

Life can be cruel,
Like an endless duel,
A very hard school,
Where difficulty and disappointment are the rule.

If so, then one may ask
What sort of tool
Can be employed to grapple with this test?
As such would be a precious jewel.

In my view,
A certain toughness is needed
To stand up to hardship and meet it
But that is perilous as well,

For indifference to
The plight
Can create hard heartedness,
Which brings no delight,

As such imperviousness may only increase woe
By making us insensitive,
So we might
Be just as cold as Antarctic ice.

So to counteract this unresponsiveness,
Compassion is required
But even such a benign approach
Does not end our trouble,

For steeping in sentiment
Can sabotage our efforts,
Allowing emotion to blind us,
Producing imprudent decisions and actions

And so,
Some wisdom is essential too,
To ensure a balance
In between the two.

Emotionless: One More

Stirring development,
Laughingly irrelevant
To my actual predicament
And well passed the sell by date,

So that lifting the waste bin lid
I ceremoniously dispose of it
And refuse another,
For as long as I can hold out;

But then, who knows the future?
If there is one,
Which is as uncertain
As this moment,

Composed of nothing,
Nevertheless so seemingly so,
Not nil
And yet lacking all substance;

And so begins
Another day
Of wordy speculation,
A new attempt,

A further effort
To express that
Which so many are seeking
But is just right here,

Hidden in plain sight
And unseen,
Because it’s ubiquitous
And therefore difficult to discern,

So subtle
And so obvious,
Like the complex odour currently flowing
From the pot of stew simmering on the stove;
Invisible but so compelling and self-evident.

Emotional: Productive Passion

Frustration bubbled forth,
Like broth,
From an overheated stew pot:
Too much to do!
Too much to do!

And the final ingredient in this recipe for wrath?
Tripping over
The overlong legs
Of the track pants I had put on!

Furiously, off I tore them,
Then rapidly turning the offenders inside out,
Grabbed a wooden ruler
And folded up the material on the right leg,

Measured off two inches of cuff
And seized my pin jar,
Screwing off the gold metal lid
And vigorously stabbing the cloth;

On to needle and black thread,
Stitched with determined speed,
Racing against he clock,
As cooking and work also on the docket;

In record time
I completed the job,
Without a single expletive
Or irritated growl,

Pouring all the energy I possessed
Into the necessary task,
I worked so fast
I had no opportunity to fume,

No irate smoke filled the room,
And soon,
The chore was done
And my comfort restored.