And like the sea at low tide
showing its sandy secrets to the sky,
peace finds solace in the hope
that someday it will be allowed a voice.
A voice that speaks like a hymn of falling water,
whispering that maybe now is the time.
The time to wander out of old shadows,
like a child discovering a hidden haven,
weaving in and out of myth and magic
leaving no stone untouched.
And like a cascading torrent,
peace barrels down a canyon, intent on its course
leaving no questions
and giving no answers.
Finding a voice that shouts and cries out and will not be silenced.
And like the sea at high tide,
showing its froth and fury to the shore,
peace becomes the promise
that its voice will be heard.
A voice that speaks
and says that yes,
now it is time.