The replied ( from the strenger's diary ).

Come color girls and Boys whatever your

shades. Come Caucasians, Asians, Arabs,

bring the Indians, all those who is seeking

refuge, and peace.

People of the race, come sit in the thick

mist of this dewy autumn morn. See the
cotton woods, come applaud, sing aloud.

Oh echoing of the musical rhyme swing

you low, carry you high.

For the lovers of Autumn, sweet orison

wail, stars of heaven, clothed in beauty.

For the love of Autumn, play the fiddles

in the mystifying rage. It is righteous in all

its ways.

This poem carry a multi- dimensional pasture.It is a cry for peace in a waring world, and the continuation of the so-called free world extending hands for those who desire its sanctuary. There is certainly hope to live by.

This is my prayer in the mist of hopelessness, and last.