High Sanctuary

High up in the mountains on a clear, starry night far behind me's 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 her 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 tide 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, lightning 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 robins and the butterflly'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. * Another one of my "older" poems, written during a very ugly period of my life. Ironically, the personal battles were offset by the dazzling beauty of my location- the Blue Ridge Mountains of West Virginia. Also, this is where I first discovered poetry.