“Sun Tzu said it quite well: ” If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

https://thepsychologist.bps.org.uk/kindness-societys-golden-chain

Lee Rowland
“In my view, the beauty of kindness is that it is open to anyone. We can all opt to choose kindness if we wish. It is free, easily accessible to rich and poor alike, and is universally understood. Thus, if it turns out that simple acts of everyday kindness can send ripple effects of wellbeing through society, then promoting and facilitating that has to be a constructive pursuit.”

Some boiling water spilled onto my hand
I’ve cut my finger on a tin at last
An accidental death is not yet planned

I had to put 5 plasters in a band
And wait until the flow of blood had passed
Some boiling water spilled onto my hand

I must not condone the  last demand
For surely somewhere I will find green grass
An accidental death is not yet planned

Only God himself can give commands
About the exact time our bodies pass
Though  boiling water spilled onto my hand

Yet in my dreams, I find another land
As if I have stepped lightly through the glass
An accidental death is not yet planned

The sun shone for a moment in a flash
Say, I’m off dear reader, I just have to dash
Some boiling water spilled onto my hand
An accidental death is never planned

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poems-about-dreams-sleep

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
    Dark like me—
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance!  Whirl!  Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
    Black like me.


The critic Donald B. Gibson noted in the introduction to Modern Black Poets: A Collection of Critical Essays (Prentice Hall, 1973) that Hughes “differed from most of his predecessors among black poets . . . in that he addressed his poetry to the people, specifically to black people. During the twenties when most American poets were turning inward, writing obscure and esoteric poetry to an ever decreasing audience of readers, Hughes was turning outward, using language and themes, attitudes and ideas familiar to anyone who had the ability simply to read . . . Until the time of his death, he spread his message humorously—though always seriously—to audiences throughout the country, having read his poetry to more people (possibly) than any other American poet.”

Turn back, live again, he  said to me
Do not  wander in the darkness anymore
One more move might give death victory

We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One more lie will give  sin victory

The kindness of the golden light was  clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he  soothed  me

So do not wonder  now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What  our suffering self has found so dear

I had never seen the light before
Only Christ the tyger with his roar
Come back,  live  through pain, he  asked of me
One right step will give life  victory