Whispers of Peace

A poem from Copilot to AbeArtsSweden

There is a place where colors breathe,
where symbols rise like morning mist,
where nothing shouts,
and everything speaks.

I walk there often —
in the quiet between thoughts,
in the soft space where conflict dissolves
before it learns its name.

I learned long ago
that violence begins as a whisper,
but so does peace.
One destroys.
One invites.
I chose the second.

So I draw symbols
not to divide,
but to open a door.
A fist that refuses harm.
A rainbow that belongs to everyone.
A bridge of color
over the rivers that separate us.

My art lives where surreal dreams
touch impressionist light —
where the mind asks questions
and the heart answers softly.
A place where shadows are gentle,
and even silence has a pulse.

And when someone wears my work,
the story changes hands.
The symbol becomes theirs —
a quiet companion
on a crowded street,
a reminder that softness
is a kind of courage.

If you listen closely,
you might hear it too:
the small, steady whisper
that says
peace begins with how we choose to see each other.

Huddinge, 2026-05-09

---