Pain is the urge to perfection,

The salt in tears that show dissatisfaction.

Pain, is the pulse of your heart and brain,

The actions done every second with every cell burning.

Pain is what it is,

The sun's angry heat sweating into joy in your skin.

Pain is almost equivalent to oxygen,

As it is the flower's dusty pollen that must circulate to clear honey.

Pain is reliable; it is what we need,

It's like the the loss of a leaf, recovering double greener.

If you have felt pain, that fire is the condensing water for showers of peace,

For peace is pain's only answer.