PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The sun that once lite my way over the hills has set.

No longer are the dew drops reflecting their beautiful

splendor over the meadows in the early morning dawn.

There are only gray skies and rain.

Grassy hill paths have turned to jagged stone mountain trails, ripping the flesh from my naked feet, pain impedes my climb, impedes my strength, strips my heart of hope.

Hope of everlasting peace is being bled from my veins by the jagged rocks I must climb.

I must climb, I must, climb.

I must climb this mountain to the peak! Where, perhaps once again I will stand and meet the sunrise, to view the splendor of dew drops which glimmer tiny rainbows across the grassy fields in the early morning dawn.

But for now, I must rest upon this rock.

I must stop and tend my wounds.

I must rest, upon the rock.

In sleep, owls will circle and screech the sounds of my soul, for I am too weak to scream my own sorrows. They will put out my call. When you hear their nocturnal voices, when you see them circling the rock, know I am there. Know that I have lost my way, my strength, my hope,... my own song.

I am resting in the rocks, trying to understand the words of the Great Wise Owls. Trying to understand why they would stay with me. Trying to understand why the eagles do not fly this mountain...Perhaps it is even too high for them to soar.

Too dark for them to see, too frightening,.. the songs of Owl.

I know. I know too well. But they stay with me, and put out my call. They stay above me, waiting, not leaving me.

Waiting,... for my call to be answered, then they will guide me over this dark trail, and into the skies where the light shines bright, and only, the eagles soar.