Where has the white bird flown? Who hears its meek song now?
Eyes blinded by war cannot see peace; ears deafened by guns cannot hear words of brotherhood.
Silver warwings can rip through the fragile feathers. Artillery blasts overwhelm the heart-needed voice. But the peacebird is phoenix as well as dove. It may be maimed but never killed. As it is only earth's opacity which makes the night, So war only obscures peace for a tragic while.
At dawn the white bird will sing again!