Peace
By Jerry D. Smith
Sunlight crested the mountains, the fiery gold and orange of summer light broke forth filtering through the clouds and striking the ground in beams of solid light. The soft playing of a harp can be heard drifting silently through the heavy air with the complexity of harmony and the chords that trap the heart and keep the listener spellbound. The animals and birds do not rise from the places where they rest; the unexpectedness surrounding this day is stifling. The only sound is that sad and sorrowful harp which slowly tears away at the soul, drawing grief, pain, despair, and suffering…..the images of death. The untimely deaths of people all play like sorrowful scenes across his tune while tears stream down his face and his fingers continue to pluck at the strings of the harp.
The lost battle of the day still scars the land below him with waters sullied and defiled. Death leaves behind the ones who will suffer from this day’s finality. With the mind opened to the essence of the moment, the harpist feels and knows that the pain of today, of yesterday, and tomorrow, will be a long time healing. The light of dawn, the promise of tomorrow, seem hollow now, but he knows the truth – without death, the promise of tomorrow, the loss, the healing, would not be able to occur.
Standing, the harpist holds his harp to his chest and he leaps into the air, his hair rippling behind him with the single white lock of his temple glowing a soft gentle blue…..his white and platinum robes billow around his ankles, his wings carry him over the scene. His pain is unlike that of many, yet it is the same…..he feels the pain of all life, the uncertainty of what is to come as he drifts away into the unknown…..leaving the sacred waters of death now so innocent, where driven he makes his choice to carry those whose lives are lost to a place where they find peace.
By Jerry D. Smith
Sunlight crested the mountains, the fiery gold and orange of summer light broke forth filtering through the clouds and striking the ground in beams of solid light. The soft playing of a harp can be heard drifting silently through the heavy air with the complexity of harmony and the chords that trap the heart and keep the listener spellbound. The animals and birds do not rise from the places where they rest; the unexpectedness surrounding this day is stifling. The only sound is that sad and sorrowful harp which slowly tears away at the soul, drawing grief, pain, despair, and suffering…..the images of death. The untimely deaths of people all play like sorrowful scenes across his tune while tears stream down his face and his fingers continue to pluck at the strings of the harp.
The lost battle of the day still scars the land below him with waters sullied and defiled. Death leaves behind the ones who will suffer from this day’s finality. With the mind opened to the essence of the moment, the harpist feels and knows that the pain of today, of yesterday, and tomorrow, will be a long time healing. The light of dawn, the promise of tomorrow, seem hollow now, but he knows the truth – without death, the promise of tomorrow, the loss, the healing, would not be able to occur.
Standing, the harpist holds his harp to his chest and he leaps into the air, his hair rippling behind him with the single white lock of his temple glowing a soft gentle blue…..his white and platinum robes billow around his ankles, his wings carry him over the scene. His pain is unlike that of many, yet it is the same…..he feels the pain of all life, the uncertainty of what is to come as he drifts away into the unknown…..leaving the sacred waters of death now so innocent, where driven he makes his choice to carry those whose lives are lost to a place where they find peace.
