Thursday, January 29, 2009

I Am the Hills

The hills are calling me home.
Everywhere I go,
from the luscious lawns
to the glorious gardens,
on the sun basking beaches
with the swirling sea.
From the city of illuminations
and the sound of festivities,
on road bound adventures
to the life of rarities
but the hills still beck me home.
I've been to the lowlands
and deep down in the valleys,
beyond man-made sculptures
and into wistful memories.
But my heart and soul
yearn for the mists
rising from among trees,
sunshine that warms the skin
where dewdrops lace the dreams.
I could sit and watch the breeze
ruffle nature's hair,
sway it to a dance
and fill sweetness in the air.
I hear them calling out to me
in the darkness of the early hours,
and in the lightness of my slumber.
They're waiting to embrace me
to take me home.
I lie in the heated day and wonder
how long more I could resist
the origin of my being.
In the silent moments
when all is well and still,
I belong to no one
I am the hills.

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