White Carillons

Rivers of grief are swelling, flooding the soul's mute sanctum;

Quivers of fear are shaking its depths at the curse of war.

Weeping, we see the crosses over our soldier-martyrs

Sleeping at last, while terror rides on his crimson steed.

Praying for war's cessation while on our knees we worship,

Saying, "Thy will be done," then leaving the rest to God

Never will bring right's triumph, lighten our cross of sorrow;

Ever we all must toil our utmost to bring release.

After the long dark night when dawn is breaking in glory,

Laughter will flow from hearts erasing the spirit-scars.

Winging to Heaven, our joy will be an anthem. The angels

Ringing white carillons will sound the Millennial Gong.

The Archer

First in Arabesque Div., Head-Rhyme Contest

Builders of Peace, Begin Your Task

Those who have prophet-eyes
Now look beyond this selfish hour
To time untouched by greed's long ego-fingers,
And see apathy's limp spine strengthened
And the hurricanes of intolerance stilled.
The prophet-ears now hear,
Above the voices of diplomacy worn thin
And the mingled heart-cries of all nations,
Chords of universal harmony.
Then stone by shining stone
Men, working as brothers of the Royal Rank,
Will build the Millennium of Peace.

Gay little feet of black and white will skip
Down flowered lanes together;
Toil-imprinted hands, both light and swarthy-hued,
Will fold in prayer and clasp before love's altar,
Each face illumined by compassion.
When school bells ring, the schools in all the world
Will make each child a friend to every child.
Star-tall upon their dreams,
The youth will view beyond their own confining rim
And reach to take the hands of youth of every race
Then enter, side by side, through open doors
And build the Temple of their noblest dreams.

Listening, can you not hear the universal melody?
Builders of peace, begin your task!