Thursday, March 22, 2012
How large the mountain peaks, how infinite
The stars that shine on silence-laden nights;
The endless plains wear green while babbling streams
Run blue over the whitest rocks. No fence
Cuts through the forests; Sal and teak grow thick
On boundless lands: the roving wind’s not still
And whispers, rustling through the grass and blooms;
No pettiness can touch the soul; the thoughts
That soothe the battered heart come gently like
The mist that falls on purple hills: Peace comes
To rest in the green bower of my heart.
The gray skies open up and perfect drops
Of rain begin to fall on sleeping earth:
Nothing’s as lovely as the rain for souls
Thirsty for love and peace in troubled times.