Your Position Never Gives You The Right

What Makes Loneliness An Anguish Is Not That I Have No One To Share My Burden, But This: I Have Only My Own Burden To Bear.

Our Work For Peace Must Begin Within The Private World Of Each One Of Us.

To Preserve The Silence Within--amid All The Noise. To Remain Open And Quiet, A Moist Humus In The Fertile Darkness Where The Rain Falls And The Grain Ripens--no Matter How Many Tramp Across The Parade Ground In Whirling Dust Under An Arid Sky.

So Rests The Sky Against The Earth. The Dark Still Tarn In The Lap Of The Forest. As A Husband Embraces His Wife's Body In Faithful Tenderness, So The Bare Ground And Trees Are Embraced By The Still, High, Light Of The Morning. I Feel An Ache Of Longing To Share In This Embrace, To Be United And Absorbed. A Longing Like Carnal Desire, But Directed Towards Earth, Water, Sky, And Returned By The Whispers Of The Trees, The Fragrance Of The Soil, The Caresses Of The Wind, The Embrace Of Water And Light. Content? No, No, No - But Refreshed, Rested - While Waiting.

Beneath The Hush A Whisper From Long Ago, Promising Peace Of Mind And A Burden Shared. No Peace Which Is Not Peace For All, No Rest Until All Has Been Fulfilled.