Metaphor Poem Peace by StarFields

Peace

The wind is now

a roaring, smashing

monster of destruction,

raking all man's work

from the valleys,

from the vales,

and sends them spinning,

broken flying -

but all of that is

not its core,

its center is in truth

eternal stillness

bright blue skies

and all you hear

are gentle whispers

far away

and unimportant.

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