Though dead, these grains of wood, as skeins
unfold, with hands as kites, in prayer wave;
a wind of words, a wish across the plains,
“Please save the world from hate don’t make us slaves
in eye for eye revenge, don’t put the blame
on neighbor’s faith, don’t turn cities into graves”.
The timber of the cottage moans, replies:
“It’s up to you, forgive before you die”
Corey gives us a wonderful scene, to make us wish at toads. I thought I’d go and ask an old cottage for advice just as Corey suggests.