There Is A Lovely Road That Runs

There Is Only One Thing That Has Power Completely, And That Is Love.

For Fear Will Rob Him Of All If He Gives Too Much.

There Is Not Much Talking Now. A Silence Falls Upon Them All. This Is No Time To Talk Of Hedges And Fields, Or The Beauties Of Any Country. Sadness And Fear And Hate, How They Well Up In The Heart And Mind, Whenever One Opens Pages Of These Messengers Of Doom. Cry For The Broken Tribe, For The Law And The Custom That Is Gone. Aye, And Cry Aloud For The Man Who Is Dead, For The Woman And Children Bereaved. Cry, The Beloved Country, These Things Are Not Yet At An End. The Sun Pours Down On The Earth, On The Lovely Land That Man Cannot Enjoy. He Knows Only The Fear Of His Heart.

It Is Not "forgive And Forget" As If Nothing Wrong Had Ever Happened, But "forgive And Go Forward," Building On The Mistakes Of The Past And The Energy Generated By Reconciliation To Create A New Future.

What Broke In A Man When He Could Bring Himself To Kill Another? What Broke When He Could Bring Himself To Thrust Down The Knife Into The Warm Flesh, To Bring Down The Axe On The Living Head, To Cleave Down Between The Seeing Eyes, To Shoot The Gun That Would Drive Death Into The Beating Heart?