Anger In the root of anger Waits an angry flower. Resentment and revenge Will be its fruit. Darkness and division Its bloom. From like to like is the revelation. To do as has been done Again and again. To return this for that. And balance the season. Or the hour. Or the age. The child of anger clings to the known And will not let go. There is no end to anger. It is a path of circles that sees only itself.