Polarise Your Lord is One, say you? That man, he cries That his is thrice that of yours. Does he lie? What about this one, claiming a whole troupe? Or the countless others, God's godly troops? Barehanded, peel away the barefaced onion- Skins and see: it makes you cry, but quick: There's more to see in all this mass than tears; The messy mass composts with every year. Understand that although your sore eyes sting, Your hunger will soon thank them for their pains. It will be further from you if you think Of it constantly, so don't pray for gains. Accept them as they come and don't forget That every shadow flees before the light. If these shades should return, why, never fret - The sun will always rise to slay the night.
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