Across the mountain afar,

Pastures hidden from sight

Upon the highest meadow

That glorious place unknown,

Gnarled foliage over primordial trees

Overcome with sepia leaves

Welcoming the dawn of fall

Chilled water flowing liberally

In small, quiet pools

Homes made from shade

Beneath those outstretched arms

That never complain, never do they hear

One or more an infatuated lover

Speak their words of woe or passion

And smile.

Carpeting the time-weathered path

Childlike patterns in the dirt

Rays of dusk sunlight,

Escaping the clouds’ oppression

And beset the fields of green delight,

An ancient place stands the test of time.

Behind that moss-covered gate

Gothic forged handle

Fertile silt damp always

Obscured from sight, forgotten

Fluid but never changing

An ancient place stands the test of time

And form the beauty of the day.

Sometimes,

Just sometimes,

As the tranquillity takes you wholly,

You can hear the voices speak

Omnipresent

Showering you with comfort.

This is your home, they would say

And those infatuated lovers

Would speak their minds of woe and passion.

As night would come,

So the sky would become

Velvet silk entwined in cerulean

Swirls of scarlet would join

And form the beauty of the night.

Once,

Just once,

I would put aside the world

And reply to those voices

Who speak clearer than

The ponds of Purity.

Benevolent, comforting

Always.

Forever,

No less,

Than forever,

Will this place remain esoteric

Bearing the wisdom

And growth of spirituality

Found nowhere else.

One day,

One most precious to me,

May accompany my journey

To share these rare gifts and beauties

Of a land atop the distant mountain

And form the beauty of perseverance

Always.