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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Gathering Signs

At last peace has come,
like a butterfly hovering
above a flower.
Peace the length of a hair.
The quiet between two bolts
of lightning.
People walk for peace.
Riot for peace.
Good will among brothers and sisters.
The cusp between night and day
where for an instant,
time goes away.
Peace, the sadness of twilight.
Peace, full of loneliness,
as if life was passing away.
As if all dreams were ready to end,
and the ache of sunset
was the peace inside a grave,
where goodbys are gone.

Oaths of love have no more breath
to say them.
It was this that hurt me last night,
gathering signs for a bazaar
now over with.
Starting and stopping the car
as Mary picked them up,
for next year.
My life next year.
The past going to sleep.
Time preparing a grave
for the peace to come.
Peace on streets covered with sunset.
No more war or argument,
and love
no longer there where I called to it,
full of turmoil, passion and tears.

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