I stood atop mountains, green to red, saying
to lightly skies "hello there" and "from
where do your winds come?" From where
do they come thought I in my heart
of hearts, inside which is harbor
to all inspiring things. It was at
that time I sought clarity, thanking
God for hills that ribbon-roll, and the
Atlas-who-shrugged touch of greenly breeze.
I stood there, atop mountains green to red,
and the wind answered me.