The Misty Mountains

As I traveled the mountains by foot one day; I stumbled down a valley; No sands or rocks but in the form of clay; I began to sob, sadly. Holy ground! Created by God; No distance sound; The road became broad. How life changes you; How you change life; If you don't know what to do; What purpose for you to strive? As I returned to my home, I began to wonder; The journey had begun, just to make me ponder, Just silly of me, making a blunder, Then I changed, to be the rising thunder.