where is a fulfilled wish,
yet hides in its disguise,
to all but the wise.
i speak of the meadows,
that kiss the horizon,
bridged by the rainbows,
punctuated by the sparkle of the brook,
that drains in the cascade,
in turn to the water fall,
and all round the countryside,
giving life in its peaceful wake.
i tell tales of the heart,
i speak of soothe to the hurt,
i speak of unknowable peace,
that picks piece by piece,
to amend the whole,
of God and his,
of the man and all these,
from ducks to flocking geese,
i speak on none but peace.
in the ungrudging soul,
the loving self control,
of they that play their role,
this immense peace,
that hide in the light,
and fade in the night,
where no fuss no fight,
or fists clenched tight,
yet the blind will see it not,
to them; unknowable peace
No comments:
Post a Comment