He went looking for peace,
leaning on an iron will.
Personal effort pushed to the edge,
yet war kept returning.
Small or great,
a fight would come without warning,
hurling him back into the fray.
His will alone proved powerless,
and at last he faltered.
Though reason kept insisting,
his heart betrayed him;
he watched the world from a distance,
wary.
Still, he kept asking why wars begin —
why suffering spares no one
in the madness of the world.
Spent from so much thinking,
he sank into gloom,
facing so much pain
and hopelessness.
Until he turned straight inward,
into self‑inquiry,
and an inner clarity arose.
In that split second
he felt relief:
he sensed he was not alone.
But who could be so near?
It wasn’t anyone outside him.
He was wrapped in an uncommon peace,
a peace that made him kin to everyone —
to the whole world —
even to the quick‑tempered
and the fiercely afraid.
From that inner link with the universal,
the peace he felt was not his to own;
and because it wasn’t,
it spoke through a single verb,
rising from nadir
to the highest heavens.
Yes —
a force
flooding the center of his heart,
rising to the center of his soul,
which yielded at once.
Then it was a final peace,
beyond good and evil,
free, timeless, available.
It would be open to all —
yes, only a matter of time,
time for consciousness to ripen.
I wish this, intensely, for the world,
certain that such peace will reach
every one of us.
