Trudging amidst littered corpses resulting from fatal blood baths, I asked myself in the middle of one wade: did Peace walk this path? Did she,
Home’s laughter and joy, where good thoughts mature; Home’s water for life, and without colour or odour; Home makes eyes water, but beneath blesses each
A new day will come, when from ash, The glory of the golden feathers, Sprayed in red and brown and ash Shall rise. And in
Everyday is an opportunity to make the next day better; seize it.