The Mountain

a poem by Thomas Chisholm, UK

I walk up to where the air is clean
To a place that some have never seen

From a mountain sanctuary way up high
I can sit and watch the world go by

The stresses and strains of modern day
From my shoulders drift away

With natures rugged beauty all around
This must be heaven i have found

I lift my gaze up to the sky
And watch the clouds go rolling by

Birds on the wing soar up high
Oh i wish that i could fly

Let the cool wind wash my spirit clean
And behold the glory that i have seen.


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