Those thud-and-blunder paperbrass sagasnever said who cleaned up afterwards.
How brave and destructive our heros were!
(I always skipped the battle scenes
to find out who won.)
Our heros were on a mission
and the end justified the means.
But I dreamed of another kind of story:a story made of healing;
of seedlings bursting pavement;
of childhood spring dawn;
of close encounters with life;
of the wisdom that brings light
and the courage that gives birth.
I wanted to sing the saga of peace
but I learned that peace is a true poem
and true poems have no words.
Therefore my peace dream remains untold,unknown, mysterious, and true;
while the thud-and-blunder paperbacks
(made of real paper)
shout their loud red victory dreams.
Thus they win a win; but no more.
For true dream is beyond victory.True dream is beyond dream.
The saga of peace ripens in silence.
Joy is a song that sings itself
when life surpasses adventure.