The Dish of Comfort

There is comfort in the abyss

There is duty in the light

Treetops shield the world from sunshine

And darkness weeps for the world it knows

~

Comfort is a pillow in the middle

Two heads claim it as their own

Locked in the eternal battle

Both wanting it for their own

~

Cozy is cooking for another

The kitchen of burdens awaits

The garden of truth ripens fruit

So, use it on your plate

~

Season the dish with herbs of joy

and garnish it with hope

For comfort comes to those in service

And alludes those who seek for self