Ask Yourself Not If This Or That

I Have One Great Fear In My Heart, That One Day When They Are Turned To Loving, They Will Find That We Are Turned To Hating.

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.

There Is A Man Sleeping In The Grass. And Over Him Is Gathering The Greatest Storm Of All His Days. Such Lightening And Thunder Will Come There Has Never Been Seen Before, Bringing Death And Destruction. People Hurry Home Past Him, To Places Safe From Danger. And Whether They Do Not See Him There In The Grass, Or Whether They Fear To Halt Even A Moment, But They Do Not Wake Him, They Let Him Be.

When I Go Up There, Which Is My Intention, The Big Judge Will Say To Me, Where Are Your Wounds? And If I Say I Haven’t Any, He Will Say, Was There Nothing To Fight For? I Couldn’t Face That Question. (ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful)

It Is My Belief That The Only Power Which Can Resist The Power Of Fear Is The Power Of Love.