Poems (Rumell)/The glorious mountain
THE GLORIOUS MOUNTAIN.
I see this life as a glorious mountain,The slow climbing of which we beginAs we drink of it's first flowing fountain,Drowsing to the lullaby, the mothers sing.
As I gaze at this wonderful mountain,With its broad era and infinite height,I feel, we do not see its highest expansion,For no man, as yet, may stand such light.
As I look round at its base, at all mankind,The material things, of which all seem so proud,Then gazing up at the highest climbers, I findThe Crown of Life's mountain, still in cloud.
At its base, life's climbers, I see are many,Full of love, hope, ambition, high desire,Toiling up they pick baubles, that prove burdensWeight of which keep the soul from going higher.
Looking higher, the crowd we find thinning,As they struggle on and up toward the height,One by one, go the burdens, which in beginning,Were more dear than the journey toward light.
As I gaze closely, at lifes highest climbers,They have shed the tinsel and burdens of youth,And now, alert to the souls Inspiration,Climb straight up life's mountain to truth.
Those climbers, of whom we speak of as dying,Of which fear has been voiced long and loud,Still live, and I believe, are still climbing,Tho they've passed from our vision, in the cloud.