At length I have considered
Things like loss and failure.
That pain which burns and lingers,
And mourning, we cry, we wither.

It is tempting to give in,
To take to where we have been,
This alone is no gentle sin:
To be a cold, stiff wind.

It seems an easy fit,
To bite with freezing wit.
Those who have been bit,
Will only spew more shit.

Instead, perhaps, learn this,
In warmth we can find bliss,
To the cold it is a kiss,
And it frees those that are amiss.

In loss, become generous,
It is its own cleverness.
It cures the bite venomous
And relieves all things strenuous.

In Failure, learn support.
Let no passion abort,
Sell no friend short,
And you will receive your own court.

At length I have considered,
My losses and failures,
That pain still burns, still lingers,
I try to ensure,
That no one else will cry or wither.