High Sanctuary

High up in the mountains
on a clear, starry night,
far behind me is the gleaming
of the city's harsh light.
Before me lies a valley
clothed in fog's misty shroud.
These mountains don't know
the city's maddening crowd.
A serene, ethereal silence
comes down with the rain
cleansing Mother Earth
and easing my pain.
The city's hustle and bustle,
I've left far behind.
Nature's mystical beauty
is soothing my mind.
Soiled and mauled
in the city's fast lane
I come seeking Mother Nature
to make myself sane.
Her mountains and forests
my flayed spirit will heal,
as I shun all the falsehoods
and embrace what is real.
At sun's rising, I gaze
on the wonders of creation,
while nature's magnificence
fills my soul with elation.
Bathed in new sunshine,
like an aura of time,
the mountains were here
when man started his climb.
Unsullied and awesome,
since the ages of old,
before man's lust developed
for silver and gold.
A treasure so vast
it boggles the mind,
a source of calm pleasure,
so simple to find.
Like sea ride eternal,
the seasons march on
while time makes its changes,
wending hither and yon.
January trees
are festooned in the night
with icicles that blaze
in the rising sun's light.
February's touch
is a dazzling flow
as it covers the mountains
with a blanket of snow.
March brings a warming
the stirrings of life.
The winds are unleashed
and the showers run rife.
In summer, the forests
are deep, lush and green.
Sunlight dapples the land
with a lustrous sheen.
Autumn's riotous colors,
gold, copper and red
and the mauves, pinks and purples
of evening's sunset.
A wild August storm,
thunder, lightening and rain,
bring mind- freezing awe
of the elements unchained.
Bright shooting stars
hear the gossiping trees,
who whisper with the passing
of a September breeze.
November grows colder
and a sad zephyr sings.
Gone are the robin's
and the butterfly's wings.
December brings stillness
as winter takes hold,
locking mountains and forest
in a prison of cold.
Now, like the seasons
in their perpetual spin,
I'll wend through the forest
and valley and glen.
At last, I know calm,
peace and tranquility
for God's mighty mountains
have set my soul free.

This poem is about: 


Annette M Velasquez

I have had to re- post this, somehow it was accidentally zapped. This was written during a period of turmoil, then transformation, and finally- renewal. All thanks to the glory of God's grace and his beautiful creation.

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