Pause, and reflect in the pond of pastoral sweetness
Gently rippling wind sketches new thought on the taut fresh surface
Images distort slightly, but retanig their regular flavor,
Elastic impressions never far from the clarity we savor

Ask for a peacetime, and fools make war in arguement on how to do it
Make love at the right time, and only one person helps you get to it
Turn to the maker in requesting for the best and right answers
And the maker speaks in a language unknown... but often inferrs

Retributive often the judgement of the forgotten soul
Who transubstantiates good intentions and takes our proper toll
And pathetic though the ingrate be, we are simply no better than sh(h)e
But attempting good is the beginning of greatness... will you take tea? ttr