doing things that bring joy and sing in a soul
sounds, like laughter from a child's first chuckle
heals wounds in a tired rifted heart, no more tolls
to be paid, no trolls to slay, oh but some buckle

Under the load

juggle thoughts of what to do, while doing nothing, makes stew
and the juices, bitter tasting as they simmer with too much heat
pieces of another's life, pursuits that sound good but don't get, To Do
knowing not how to get the words out, eating uncooked raw meat

To Feed the Soul