I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine -

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Today I finally and decisively ended a saga of eating fruit from a poison tree, whose false fruit have long deceived me. While this is somewhat painful - it is interesting that even the end of what was merely a delusion or a phantasam can be painful if one had belived in it long enough; witness all the stark raving people in mental institutions or the stories of Kafka - coming out from under the shadows of a poison tree is extremely liberating, for one begins to live again, and life is liberating!