Sunday Thought - The High Ground

I'd like to go to the mountains one day,
Up where the air is cool and clear;
It should not matter if I lose my way
With the starlight close and the moon drawn near.

I'll pitch camp with my back to the trees,
A refuge from the storm and snow;
When it's spent I'll turn my face to the breeze
And cast my line in the stream below.

At night the fire will keep me warm,
Its orange gleam caught in a panther's eye;
The darkness shields his mortal form,
Ordaining he must, for now, pass by.

My senses shall return full fair;
Within arm's reach I'll touch the sky,
My thoughts take flight and mount the air
To circle above the hawk on high.

The heartbeat of the fleeing deer,
The snowy owl's hushed and beating wings -
Nothing shall escape my ear,
But I'll not linger upon these things.

Having been called to ascend the heights,
My abbey will the mountain be,
A palace cold of snow and ice,
Its windows on eternity.

I see them far off behind the haze
Rising from this lower domain,
Like vapors rank of ruinous days
Where yet of love mere shards remain.

I cannot choose not to stay;
Like most I cannot love alone;
Here I'll abide that chosen day
When calls the Love I have not known.

©2005