Up on the hill. Sun burnt grass. Waving in the wind , to me really waving the breath of God exhaled through the trees. A thousand smells fills my soul from the earth. Where feet have cut paths through time. Winding through the fields, to share this moment alone. I am really not alone, to fill my self with the breath of the Earth. For this breath picks me up high with the clouds. And only these thoughts is were I want to be. To rest my thoughts on the wind, my thoughts on a magic carpet sailing above the land to meet this moment is to leave behind the troubles of the day. Big or small they don't belong here. Here I can only meet those who have known something greater. My thoughts like the pages of an old book. Guide me to be here with you, its the only place to be in your Garden. Were the Swords of War lay in the sand. May I to place my sword here. And pick a Rose from your garden of treasure. A red Rose as a memory to take with me and to carry always. How can I stay longer in your Garden.

May I drink from the Silver challis some water. To drink a toast to the peace makers and to those who road Horses into Battle. And to those who died and fought for you.

Across the land and plains, where your temples grew. Symbols of your garden for all to see. To here the voices of time echo here. The voices of those who new what they Died and fought for. As I drink from this challis, I here a thousand cups come together. In toast of your name and honour. But I am blinded by the beauty of your Sword of peace. I will return to polish my sword to. That I may rub shoulders with your Nights of Honour. assembled in your garden. The message is clear you have shown me. When I return it will be in fullness of Knowing you. And that I to must live by the sword the sword of peace.

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