The Boiling Kettle

Simplicity is all it takes.
The smallest spark, the faintest thought,
It comes so easily,
Unexpectedly at times.

Merriment can be amidst one fellow one moment,
Laughter and gaiety,

But then in the next moment
A subtle nuance of emotion can flare
For no apparent reason.
But you know the reason,
No matter how small it may be.

Like a kettle that begins to heat up
From the coolness of its original form.
Innocently placed on an unsuspecting burner
Until the coils within begin to warm.

The kettle warms.
The water within begins to heat.
It’s fair to moderate
Harmless really.
The water then begins to writhe within,
Slowly becoming uncomfortable,
Then absolutely unbearable.

The kettle next whistles,
It may be unheard at first,
It whistles some more,
Then louder,
Screaming on the stove top,

The difference?
The brewer knowingly placed that kettle on the stovetop.
The one who has control can free the kettle from the agony,
The burning heat.

But who can save you?
Who can free you from the anger within,
That simmers,
Then brews,
Then outward screams,
In the evident pain that you feel,
Or the agony thrust upon others?

Others cannot control your anger,
They may dare to assist you through the phases of the boiling kettle,
But you are responsible.
You have resources within to practice, use, or even rely upon.

The anger that rages within lasts as long as you allow.


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