by Mark Lager
We are listening to the city at night, but we hear only the nothingness of silence. We are back inside the church as the humming of the organ and the tentative, two-note guitar strum return us to the revival.
What was this truth so deep and profound that it could not be spoken in words but only carried on the night wind through the streets in acts of silence?
It was revolution.
It was that which is called peaceful.