You call me Carver for I saw branches from your every tree.
In truth I am Pruner, cutting to allow the lower leaves light they need to grow.
I watch you graft, bearing fruit of every color, size, and shape.
I cultivate that growth, fertilizing your soil with ashes of loved ones past.
You call me Destroyer for I appear in chaos and during ruin.
In truth I am Effect, summoned here by causes grand.
It is not I who spread disease, establish wars, and foreclose on homes.
Not I who poison your populace with liquor, drugs, and guns.
Nor I who conflagrate forests, breathe out tempests, rattle earth.
But I manifest to catch your fallen, pleading to God few of you will drop.
You call me Butcher for I slice and I cleave.
In truth I am Shepherd, freeing your wounded from fields of pain.
I pray with those of you who pray, silently sit with those who don't.
I usher you to following worlds, promising my return to watch your herds.
You call me Dream Wrecker for I spoil all your plans.
In truth I am Dream Weaver, urging forward time's demand.
Without me you would dawdle, recline, and relax.
Because of me you sprint, construct, and innovate at max.
Proudly I stand with those who dare, and pity those who don't.
Be at peace and keep writing. You can only get better.
~ CR Guardian