hands, compassion, help


Like an iron rod

You walk through life

Searching for fire to make you turn

To make you twist

The heat of its radiant colour

Pulls you in

It is too hot, too intense

You want out, but you are all in

It is burning you

You search for a friend, to pull you out

No one hears, except One passing by

Called Kindness

It grabs you, heals your wounds
Caresses you and gives you water

When you recover

Your ungrateful-self goes searching for fire again

And kindness remains there

Water in its hand, blanket on its laps

Waiting for the days to go by

And for you to come back.