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On the mountains high smelling nature. The East came the sun and south came the wind.

And it was enchanting as trees sprung up to smiling sunrise waving hands at the passing by winds that swept across.

It looked like Peace.
I strolled down to the calm waters at the feet of the mountain,

And I loved the colour the waters wore.

I observed how heavier the fountain falls with roar into the gentle flow.

I stood still solid a century just trying to fathom if that's Peace.
Peace is the language on tongues now. 

People speak it with arrow and bow. 
Others speak it with greetings with bow.

We speak it, don't see it, wondering if it's just an illusion.

For at that nature sight I saw animals fighting for survival under the gentle waving trees I thought it was peace.

Deep down the calming waters did I you see the fishes striving for survival yet the surface looks peace.

Peace is everyday fight.

We speak it, don't feel it, wondering if it's just an illusion

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