The Hill

Mystical the old Hill standing Over it thick mist hazing Kids, we were at its foot playing In a large green meadow dallying Heedless, innocence enjoying The Hill’s slopes utterly ignoring In youths, up we were growing The Hill in our eyes was swelling The mist little by little retreating An enthralling Hill gradually unveiling Majestic it stood there really tempting The pasture we were all forsaking One day at its bottom standing Our sires admiringly observing The Hill’s slopes they were climbing The top in sight yet remote looking A desire, inside, our minds seizing To conquer the peak an urging longing The meadow in our hearts dying To venture up the Hill all our wanting Vernal, conceited the worst choice making A steep, sharpest inclination challenging Soon unknown hardships we were facing Feet down the slope perilously sliding Fingernails for a grasp breaking A helping hand around searching Bruises our skin covering The price we were told for learning. That was only the beginning Harder moments later we were enduring Helpless we saw our sires one by one down falling Yet the ascent wasn’t just sadness and mourning Dear kids in the meadow our places taking Their sinless smiles our hearts warming To green flowery fields for a rest inviting Peaceful sweet- scented fields, regenerating.