It is strife that life is rife

From scorching heat come if cool spells of rain, Lotus allures, let it from mud arise, If joy gets born from deepest pits of pain, Sorrows are sent to size us, make us wise. It’s strange if pleasure comes shorn of challenge, If road ahead is straight and smoothly laid, If life always shows bright hues of orange, Bewitching, every beauty spot is made, Every bed’s laid with roses, life sans plight, Thorns on rose plants are consigned to exile, Black is banished and life's not but delight, Won’t such painless pleasures make life sterile? Crib not my Mind, if problems keep cropping, Thank thyself, strife whets dull wit from rusting. ___________________________ Sonnet |03.04.11, revised Nov 2024| life, strife