THE VISIONS AND THE SONGS
By Poetic Meditations
In his thirtieth year, the calling came divine,
Leaving all, a towering mountain he did climb,
HIgh above the lofty tree tops and the clouds,
Far from the petty masses and rabble loud,
Where on nuts and wild berries he did feed,
Crystal water from a stream and honey from the bee.
Slept beneath a vast canopy of stars each night
Until the wind sang to him and visions filled his sight.
What he heard and saw, he wrote down upon his heart.
After forty days and nights, from the mountain did depart
To sing his songs to the people was his burning mission,
But too busy making money, no one cared to listen.
One night, alone in bed, he died quietly where he was laying
With the visions and the songs in his heart still playing.