Peace Is

yellow pollen

Peace is pollen, miniscule seed

That roots in mindful soil; it breeds

Where thoughts are harboured, captured by

A mind that chooses what supply

To water, weed, and tend with care,

And which to deny access there.

After thoughts which harm are routed

Peaceful seeds can then be sprouted;

Global gardens introspected

Are the places peace perfected.

Peace begins within – before hatred can grow and germinate, it must be thought, considered, ingested into the soul. As our hearts move toward those in Paris and Beirut who have suffered at the hands of hatred, I must ask – How does your garden grow?

In the Middle Part

story

It started well –┬áthe action’s pace

And characters behaved.

The dialogue was natural,

Each scene what reader craved.

The villain entered right on cue,

But there, the thickened plot

Unravelled all the ends at once,

Derailed your train of thought.

You turn the pages, heart in throat,

Each word spells tragedy;

The flyleaf didn’t caution you,

Predict your destiny.

The Witches charm, Deep Evil lurks,

The Wrong upsets the right;

The Bad Guys go from Worse to Foul,

And Dark absorbs all light.

Anxiety hits fevered pitch,

But each word you devour

Reveals more loathsome characters,

Or strips you of your power.

In anguish, trembling fingers clutch

The closure that’s been penned;

You must, you must, you must find out

What happens in the end.

But oh, dear reader, pause a while,

Breathe every phrase in peace;

You’re only in the middle part,

Where havoc is released.

Your anxious soul would skip this bit,

To save your heart from harm –

But if you skim this episode,

You’ll miss your story’s charm.

The overthrow of villainy,

The chains that break in time,

Heroic actions, victories

That kill each awful crime.

So slow it down and read each word,

Your story is not done;

This chapter is not you, my friend –

Your best is yet to come.