So many times
we burn our own toil
cling to our fears
let them lives spoil

like the well done
kneaded tended dough
halfhearted, wretchedly
in the furnace throw

pain, imagined slight
burns in inward peep
so dear to our chest
we often happily keep

eagerly our ears listen
to demons guttural knell
glumly wait and let
some magic burn to hell

14th Dec,2k12