Stands the watchtower,
the lone titanic tree.
Branches filled with feathered messengers,
singing freedom from harsh seasons.
A thousand doves coo, heralding winters end.

The mountain calls again.
The path no longer crumbled and lean.
Even the crows welcome me here,
scurrying at my feet,
flying high, like Nepalese guides.
Crying "This is the way".

Pinnacle feat teases my senses.
Your voice, your presence everywhere.
I know you in the sky, the earth, the familiar mist that falls free.
Arms raised, I feel you take my hand,
lift me beyond the now into forever.
O beautiful realms,
artists have tried to share,
captivate me and more.

Love and Light speaks.
"It is not your time".
My soul,
flooded and overwhelmed
weeps.

Already I taste the suffocating valley's desert sand.

copyright