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The Hill

[Poetry (General--not Contest)]

There is a hill that I have seen, in childhood,

Through the window of my dreams.

It is a secret, sacred place,

Unreal and yet existing.

 

A mystery, hidden by a veil,

Too hallowed for a human tread.

And I have longed to run there,

To place my naked feet upon the emerald incline,

Find a foothold, climb its sylvan slope,

And solve the secret of its certainty,

To gain the loaf-shaped, sunlit summit,

Eternally dominant in the valley of my childhood dreams.

 

Tonight the hill appeared again,

Unsummoned,

And unseen for decades.

I had forgotten its eminence in my nocturnal visions.

Nearer tonight than in memory,

But still beyond reach.

 

An arbutus flourishes near its summit.

A solitary sentinel with roots embraced by stone.

A sight, I had not seen in decades past.

And with it on the slanting crest a structure stands,

White, bright and lustrous on the sunlit slope,

Drawing my starveling spirit to its doorway.

 

Tonight I comprehend.

 

And oh, tonight was special.

Tonight the hill drew near.

It called me by my secret name.

It whispered in my sleeping ear.

And I shall go there someday,

For some day’s almost here...


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