A Beautiful World With Something Missing
I see a beautiful picturesque of sleepy green hills and golden-brown meadows, rising and falling elegantly towards the blazing hot Sun;
A meandering river ambles softly though the Royal Forest and the fluffy white cloudlets pencil the deep blue sky; a gentle Summer breeze glides peacefully though the well trimmed grass, calmly brushing the sea of green blades from side to side; they soar like the sea, like the white waves of paradise, a hint of home.
I walk through the stylish grounds of the Palace, marvelling at its splendour;
the sapphire Lake shimmers like the stars, sparkling like diamonds.
I admire the colours, a spiralling kaleidoscope of blue and yellow.
The atmosphere is truly delightful; a world of pure tranquillity, a natural beauty.
I walk through the gate, the Lake behind me, still gleaming. The grey road rolls out before me, setting my route through the silent and antiquated town. I walk quietly until I see the Church upon my right, where I go to pray, but not just to God.
I pray to my Son. I pray for peace and then I cry a little.
I was so proud of him, so very proud. And I still am.
“In peacetime, Sons bury their fathers. In wartime, fathers bury their Sons.”