Peace as my mind's chatter becomes numb

Peace as my mind's chatter becomes numb
I earnestly want to churn
Fresh and sweet-smelling butter
From the free-flowing cream

It is a simple deed indeed
Then, what do I ponder?
Whipping cream with the blender

Sometimes it’s temperature
Sometimes consistency
That gravitates procedure

But butter is my dream
Buried inside the cream
dollops, I wish to skim

It lies at the core
Wanting patience galore
To show and then roar

Cream is concoction
Mix of life’s moments-
Lazy, waste & precious

Butter is our destination
Centrifuged by determination
It’s our ultimate salvation

Excuses forever delay
And efforts eventually pay
As labour toils each day

If there are chunks of butter
they will manifest and glitter
And slowly get better from bitter

You just sail through the tide
Holding time by your side
Keep trust, it may be the last strife

Butter has to coagulate
Buttermilk will separate
That is the final fate

Neither babble nor rattle
Just show your mettle
Make ‘butter’ and win life’s battle

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