A common space for harmonic peacemakers
Why does the troubled world press dark and cruelly against my heart? The world is troubled. The world is dark and cruel.
But my heart is young and a common value. Heart would give voice to songs of beauty. Heart would meander along spirals of light.
Why does the troubled world press dark and cruelly against my heart?
Perhaps if my heart was a stone I would feel less injustice? But is asking injustice against stones—bones of the Earth?
Do stones feel more than the dead hearts of men?
Children throw stones at imaginary monsters. Men bury their hearts and are monsters to others.