Foes Are Best Friends, On Wrong Paths

The Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not to, 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 my morning, glad, I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

-William Blake

Okay, firstly, I have no idea what the heck this poem means. But it sounds good, right??

I have a lot of problems with my enemies, but not that much compared to my friends. The first stanza, I understand. Anybody would forgive people if they were their friends. If they knew that the fault they made was a fault and there is more to the people they love than just mistakes. But your enemies, your ‘foes’, you cannot find the will to forgive them. They look like they would never change. Like they were born evil. But they are just a bunch of thoughts going to the wrong way. That’s all we humans are. We are a bunch of thoughts. That’s it.

But what gives anybody the idea to change the world? A thought. A thought is very flexible. It can be manipulated, and given offers to choose its ways. But it has to make a decision. Bad, or good, helpful or evil, what it chooses doesn’t ever become it. It can always be led to the right path. Our foes can become our greatest friends. (I know the poem doesn’t suggest that.)

Humans are humans, and will remain humans. Which means, even if you gain supernatural powers, you still need help. Help. A person, an ideal perhaps to guide you and direct you to the path- no, a path. Any path. But we need help like we need sleep. Pride doesn’t fit here. And the people who do help, who change the life, of even one person, change the world.