The Peace Digger

Staring at the sky of gloomy night
To an edge scanned by his piercing eyes,  
The gray haired human,
Grasping his feet hold of his earth
Quaked by the war,
Occupies in his optimum endeavor
To feel sensory experience of  
The still of a shining star  
That plunged to his planet                                                                         
By delving with his walking stick
Into numerous groups of the shining stars
Shattered in the sky.

The gray-haired human so severely shivers
With fear of not being unaware of
His spirit of tenacious belief
To experience his consciousness of
A divine breath of serene living
In the cool and calm atmosphere
Condensed by still of the shining star and
Poured by the greenery of Nature.

Every once in a while
The gray haired human
Takes his courageous stand
Grasping his feet rigid hold
Rigorously in his earth
To be severely secured
Not to tumble over his planet
By the sudden hit tremor.

No fatigued spirit he has
Beyond his limitless vigorous efforts,
Truly contented he is
And sturdy belief he has.
The still of the shining star
Drops truly in his planet
And fortifies a plethora of greens
To his planet, where he deeply breathes.
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