Young Wills Whine

Young wills whine
as masterless spears.
Anguish has thrown them
way out into space.

Trembling with a desire for battle
and abounding in strength
they seek targets to strike,
they seek powers to worship.

But wills which mature,
become trees and strike root,
prepared to protect
a land at their feet,
a little piece of land,
but as essential as life,
where something precious grows,
torn by the winds.

If the glade seems cramped
against infinite space
and the tree perhaps lifeless
against flashing spears,
then do not forget the leaf
with the life-green colour,
and do not forget the sap,
which seeps through marrow.

Do not be afraid, be quiet
this harvest night,
when voices say:
"Your limits are set.

You too shall be still
amongst the waking faithful.
You too shall strike root,
and be a tree, and mature."