The Meadow

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When they were younger the meadow always seemed to hold so much promise. They would sigh and dream of a simpler life. Perhaps they could trade the jingle of a few gold coins, for the peace that passes all understanding. Could they live here, farming, and be connected?

Yet time wore some holes in their clothing, and the vision of the meadow faded. The oak tree, and the wooden fence seemed to get lost in a fog. Wars raged on the outside, death was pushed back, but the scars on the inside were too immense. What they needed was an angelic army.

It took them a long time to realize their own strengths, and that peace becomes so much more valuable, a treasure really, when you have lived through the fight, pushing back time.

And now that they are older, they sigh more deeply, holding hands realizing, they have always embraced….. the meadow.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

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