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Anger is never born alone,
It rises where a wound is sown.
A spark from words, a bitter sight,
A shadow cast across the light.
Like smoldering wood beneath the ash,
It waits to flare in sudden flash.
Yet fire itself is not the foe—
It’s where we choose to let it go.
Our hidden biases feed the flame,
Turning passing clouds to storms of blame.
A fleeting ember, left unchecked,
Can leave a garden torn and wrecked.
But patience stands like rooted trees,
Unmoved by harsh and restless seas.
It lets the fire burn within,
Without allowing loss to win.
The storm that sought to shake the soul
Becomes the rain that makes it whole.
The flame once destined to destroy
Becomes a hearth of warmth and joy.
So guard the ember, calm and wise,
Let reason lead where anger lies.
For hearts that master fury’s art
Grow fields of peace within the heart.