The Nature of Peace
In a world of racket, where images contradict and fight,
Lack of equilibrium shouts loud, a harsh, relentless night.
Its banners spiral in fury, a story quickly unfolds,
Of bitterness, loss, and broken dreams, a world grown hard and cold.
Yet listen close, beneath the din, a quieter, constant strain,
A temperate, steady whisper, amidst the resentful rain.
For peace does not demand the stage, nor holler to be believed,
It blooms within a quiet heart, where all the pain is received.
It is the calm when storms diminish, the breath we draw so deep,
The silent power in letting go, the promises we keep.
No battle won with sword or shield, no victory claimed in haste,
But presence in the present moment, a world we softly taste.
One truth rings clear, a vibrant light, while the other fades in time,
That truce, in all its tender grace, is the proper paradigm.
It mends the soul, it builds the bridge, a hope that will never cease,
The silent, beautiful, constant gift: the everlasting peace.
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