Slovenia

Tight the grip which grinds away,
And causes the jaw to break,
Anger left to simmer slow,
And then, in sun, to bake.

What becomes of such a stance,
How can one let it go,
And swim so freely of a notion,
And let the river flow?

Take your fists, and beat the drum,
Run and shout and sing,
Let it out, and loosen up,
And give of all to bring

To light of day an empty space,
So love can filter in,
And swell inside of wisdom grand,
And do without of sin.