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In time you will learn to hold your tongue,
to put wings on the silence that calms you,
not to react with the impetus of fire,
when what you see or hear disarms.
Words are sown in the daily air,
some like thorns, others are caresses,
and though the wind sometimes howls tyrannically,
you will find peace in your own delights.
You learn to withdraw without a stumble,
like the river that flows and seeks no quarrel,
the art of taking a breath in excess,
for what hurts is often cornered in the pineapple.
You look with the calm of dawn,
with an all-embracing halo of light,
and in the shadow of judgement, you will learn to give in,
to let the noise dissolve into the ember.