Verses from a recess.

To take one apart, Through words, not illusionary wretched actions. Is to strike at the spine, With a gilded dagger. 'But', a voice pipes 'This is done by intent' So he says, aptly. For he knows The feeling that swells in one and is serene to another Of how a strike unmindful for one Cuts a wound deep into another.

Mercy, so says Portia, is twice blest .   One who gives and  one who takes.   What then, of forgiveness?   Does  it offer solace, to parties two?   Heart-rending   cries rack the soul,   Upon whose eyes befall a fight's crest.   Plead with the giver  to   wrest away his ego,   Or  subdue the taker, to control her rage.   Maintaining aloofness   is to tread on a  flower-bed route ,   And  to sustain  on hope  that  a   simmer settles .   He who  forgives, frets  not  on a tussle mental.   She who accepts ,  awaits  and acknowledges follies.   Mercy, though, indicates an hierarchy.   Of the giver as  dominance , and the taker as  s ubservience.   Mercy, in excess, gnaws at  many a soul.   Forgiveness, in excess, feeds many a hope.   Thus ...