When panic erupts within donít panic,
for behind the terror lies a childís mind,
who for a loveís attention writhes manic,
demanding nothing more than response kind.

The inarticulate, succinct small cry
of a mind child, shunned, turns to quicksand dread,
embraced, becomes heartfelt opening sky
to all that bittersweet life thrives ahead.

Panic is a gift, a tendered treasure
from deep within whose veiled beneficence,
when welcomed not with despair but pleasure,
reflects a true inner self love nascence.

The opposite of what you think and feel,
panic does true humanity reveal.