Ask the past about its shadow reflected through moon light. Ask the old poet who pours his wine out on the ground. We talk and write. We live and die. The rice continues to grow like the smile of an ancient rain that never fades away.
Every century begins in hope.
Ends in hope. Time is healing. Healing takes time, so say the frogs from the trees, the ghosts of humans and animals. Deep in the ground roots move toward water, touch a bone. Tonight we take the great leap to end war for good.