The pieces of my broken heart can only be seen from the stars. They sit, spread out, one individual from another. I search, seeking the one to find them. This perfect being will not be perfect. It will be flawed. I will give the boundaries and it will linger, always a little beyond them. This being will question life and laugh at death. Fearless and brave will my being be. As it searches for my heart, it will find itself engulfed by my love and protection. This being can not be touched by evil, but it will laugh and say that all is merry. My heart in time will be pieced together missing only one part. That part I shall give to my being for safekeeping. A reward for its troubles, a light in the darkness, a path through the jungle, a shield against sword. My being shall know that I am not perfect. Both of us shall struggle to live peacefully in the world. Then at old age my being shall hold out my heart and disappear. I shall smile and sleep. Finding myself ever closer to my being.
A man of peace is not a pacifist, a man of peace is simply a pool of silence. He pulsates a new kind of energy into the world, he sings a new song. He lives in a totally new way, his very way of life is that of grace, that of prayer, that of compassion. Whomsoever he touches, he creates more love-energy. The man of peace is creative. He is not against war, because to be against anything is to be at war. He is not against war, he simply understands why war exists. And out of that understanding he becomes peaceful. Only when there are many people who are pools of peace, silence, understanding, will the war disappear.