Refraction

by Ahmed Hardallo

I spent the morning sifting through the swamps of my ill disposition
Emerged tracking through the marshes of my goodwill, sullying its bad mane
I shook the mirth off , and shed the luster of conceit for the gaiety of content
The  guttural swirling of butterflies morphs through adolescence into a comfortable aged content ,
The passionate flames overwhelming the synapses, clouding a clear conscience, burdening the vision with ultimate horizons the light delicately tracing its shadows abate, for no longer do the thick storms brew , only a sweet summer rain intermittently moisturizing the stew,
And instead of a wolfing down I blow on this spoonful of opportunity , a lingering warmth supplementing a tentative tasting of tender palates ,
To revel and chew on the colorful spreading of options , and digest the emotions clearly distinguished and not despised ,
Comradarie , an awakening that binds the bamboo strips to inwardly relay their collective strain,
Comfort , to contribute without demands ,
an island of unearned, desperately yearned respite ,
Gone are the days of haste ,
Gone are the days of waste .