In the distance a proud, silent mountain rises
framed above the familiarity of the hills.
Distinct and immoveable
it remains...
wrapped in a soft, blue mist,
an aura of secrecy
which hugs close the knowledge of what it sees;
what lives under it's shadow
and is intruded upon briefly
by a part of the outside world.
The access to this private domain
winds steadily beneath a canopy of trees.
Wet boughs slowly release
the moisture of recent rains as they sway,
ushering in a new morning.
A mantle of agelessness clings to the country,
quietly protecting
as a mother guarding her children.
Change touches
and pierces the silence with people's movements
and passions for modern conveniences.
Yet, as quickly as it is broken,
it grasps it's right and resettles.
The old and the new for now
live harmoniously.
To me, this is a strange place of wonder.
A place enchanted by the philosophies of men,
kept, of course, by a more considerate lifestyle
radically differing from mine,
but perhaps, satisfying it's patrons.
I will refrain from judging,
both are able to give.
My desire is to again venture forth,
to penetrate the cover
and join as an ally to keep the peace
and the secrecy.
I look towards knowing the hearts of men
and what they find here,
how it draws them
and the fruit of this...
Yet, in respect my lips will remain closed
and not defile
to the outside world.
The hearts of men are not to be exploited,
but to be protected
as is the agelessness and peace of the mountain.
In security
is opportunity to grow.
Copyright Colleen Hansen, 12th February, 1990
All rights reserved.
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