Not what history books call peace
That certain calm after the storm
or treaty after the war
That law after the tragedy
The peace that makes little girls weep
and big men ****
Pleasure of the discontented

You are what I call Peace
A luminous molten star
You require no suffering to rise
and radiate warmth into
the leaves of the tree
the waves of the jagged ocean
and the blood of the apprehensive young heart

You shine vision into the billion year darkness of the universe
a fire that does not scorch
but crackles in the dawn of my soul
As flames kiss my lips
the sky is set ablaze as you rise