Peace is not made through theory.
Too many people die in war.
This grief, this pain
can still be felt.
No matter how loud one cries,
this way no peace can be achieved.
The flowers of the meadow,
the small insects have life.
Each life has to be respected;
Where else should peace come from?
Whether your destiny is glory or disgrace,
Purify yourself of hatre and love of self.
Polish your mirror, and that sublime Beauty
From the regions of mystery
Will flame out in your heart
As it did for the saints and prophets.
Then, with your heart on fire with that Splendor
The secret of the Beloved will no longer be hidden.