At The Mountain Top

At the mountain top I was told there was beauty.
People say that love isn’t a word,
There is no language that can express it.
I am told that at the mountain top “love” just simply breathes.
And the breeze that comes from her breath drenches us in a feeling of who she is.
I’m told there is no religion.
That down here we call it false, impossible, wrong.
We give names to a feeling we don’t understand
As a chance to comprehend the unknown in a world where logic is law.
Yet the strange scares us.
I’ve heard them singing on the mountain top,
But you tell me it’s just the wind.
Could it be that my mind is playing tricks on me?
Or are we simply afraid?
Name it sacrilegious in an effort to keep the bridges broken or hidden,
But is it possible that the hidden is in front of us and we’re just told different?
We trust the words of our fathers to guide us in the right direction
So we don’t question
When we’re taught these lessons,
We only simply take notes.
But I know I heard them singing.
They’re calling me in hope,
So why do you say it’s only a breeze?
Is it possible to speak through the leaves in the wind?
Kindle a flame without your skin burning
And if turning away is perceived as wrong,
Then look within.
And if you’re still too afraid to ask why,
Then my journey just might be alone this time.
But don’t fear for me.
Because I’ll walk down one day to tell you I made it to the top.
And I know the one you choose to call God.
Beautiful and loving.
I’ve been to the mountains peak and all there was, was the truth
only a little clearer.
You see I’ve seen the creator.
She’s on the mountain top waiting
in the shape of a mirror.
And I really think.
That you should meet her.