The trail narrowed to a line drawn in scrub,
a sandy meandering water-less river,
the incline sharper and more arduous,
as the peak in constant view,
beckoned a spiritual encounter,
and I, driven to its pleading will,
rose up toward
the cloud covered breach of sky.
A physical ascension is akin to that of spirit,
a metaphor of sanctity,
and the elation gleaned attesting that very feeling,
as we reach heights that overlook the physical world,
and let the spirit soar into the clouds,
momentarily free from the calamity of life,
the stresses and responsibilities
that cause struggle and misdirection.
As I reach a small rocky plateau at the summit,
the heart lightens,
and the air itself seems purity in essence,
and as a hawk cries from this heavenly gate,
as if to speak of its own elation,
all life falls into perspective,
and my aching muscles relax,
my burdened mind now clear.
Often words cannot impart the moment,
the feelings that hold a soul in nurture,
and this event was one such moment,
fed on the untainted truths of a hearts knowing,
the fall of weighted flesh
to seek a spiritual union with life itself,
and to know that secrets are often held from flesh,
yet the spirit knows all.
Tony DeLorger © 2016