A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Make friends with your shadow side
I've been thinking a lot about the shadow side of human nature lately and how it can take over if we do not acknowledge it and find a way to give it skillful and legitimate expression. The poet William Blake understood this: