His body ached from head to toe.
Was it from those hundred blows?
Or was it from the guilt he carried
from his tattered soul?

He sought to heal with thoughts of light.
But found his shadow standing tight. Demanding place among his gods.
An angel in the fight.

When contention’s plea was finally heard,
And their words were finally said,
Those hundred minds of Soul had deemed an agreement to be made.

That all these voices here today

must have an honest hearing,
And join together for the task of his soul’s redemptive healing.

For he was many minds inside that wrestled for dominion.
But when their forces all agreed,
His inscape was at peace.
And when each player played its part his power had increased.

This truth continues to this day
A kingdom cannot stand
When inner conflicts, strive and stress
Bring poison on the land.

That “land” may be a country great or regions of the heart, a family, team or business plan or maestro at his art.
But this mark down, it never fails and never can it be,
that when there is a tattered soul
There cannot be a peace.

There’ll l be no peace in this land
until there’s peace in this man.
So…soul embrace that work to do
And heal this tattered land.

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