The Taming of the Troubled Troll

Where are you going, little pixie, elf?
Lightly choosing, skipping through the day,
Fluid, varying, ever-changing self,
There is a direction for the way.

Now you’re heavy, troubled, rueful troll,
Can it be the same presence that we’ve felt?
Do these qualities into one being roll,
And how, then, with life’s incidences dealt?

Little or a lot, a bit like all,
Within each, a drift may take the fore.
On the surface, not a ripple breaks,
If there is steadfastness within the core.

So, little one, don’t fret if tides within
Should ebb and flow unsteady at the shore
There is a Guide, Direction, if you choose,
Who has calmed many troubled seas before.