Peace is not made through theory.
Too many people die in war.
This grief, this pain
can still be felt.
No matter how loud one cries,
this way no peace can be achieved.
The flowers of the meadow,
the small insects have life.
Each life has to be respected;
Where else should peace come from?
...this is the passing of all shining things
no lingering no backward-
wondering be unto
us O
soul, but straight
glad feet fearruining
and glorygirded
faces
lead us
into the
serious
steep
darkness