a whisper
breathed in
just the
right spot
where
shoots spring
from the warm,
dense forest
floor,
where drying
crackling
leaves sway
in the thin
mountain air,
where
the mother
ends and
the child
begins,
will echo
from here
to eternity
will reverberate
as forcefully
as a thousand
songs
will tell the
only stories
we need
to know. – TS
There's No War in World 