The Battle is over
when one can drop their shield,
knowing very well,
they may be instantly
killed.
It matters not,
when the truth now tarries,
There never really were
any adversaries!
Nothing now
I need to protect,
my knife, my sword
I do reject.
Without shield,
without sword,
I travel forth
not a man,
but a lord.
With peace my sword and love my shield,
All who approach will surely yield.
Yield to the love and non-judgement from me,
There to feel perfection, as was meant to be.
All without shields, all without swords,
Now we return to love, and all live as Lords!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem