the message

I wrote this while sitting on a bench in Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park. A wonderful place to think about doing things better.

For a moment, evil held the world in it's hand, and let life slip between its fingers. Shadows of the people are all that remain, in this place, their final stage of passing.
In the background, a bell tolls, attempting to bring them home, as a group of worshipers call to their spirits. They see not the light cast from the peace flame.
They know this fortune cannot come to pass. Much less their loved ones returned. The powers of the world are against them, but still their mouths move in prayer as one.

They look toward the heavens for answers that may never come. For the silver lining that was once painted black with the scars of burns and the horrors of their nightmare. Peace blossums like a flower from the dust and the ruble, and must be aided by the blissful touch of a mother's love.

In the shadow of war, let a great beakon shine down on us all, so that our flowers can grow once more.