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Two Mountains Crumbling In Daylight
Eons ago, near two flowing rivers in old China
Lived an old, white clothed man ninety-nine years of age
Who glared at two mountains he knew from his long-dead childhood
Who glared at the giants he always had dreams of
The first was a mist covered mountain, where all beasts were blind
With whispers of meaningless legends and theories
The second was a fiery mountain singing in passion
With trees and bushes with golden leaves, but no fruit
Both these mountains trapped the souls of the damned under the dirt
Both buried the light in the damp cyclical tomb
The souls were angels who defended their land from the night
Horsemen who guarded against the Prince of Darkness
The inner soul of light within the old man awakened
The youthful hoopoe bird within chirped for freedom
He began his work, to dig into the mountains themselves
He started to craft a path for all to travel
A wiser old man came up and saw the sweat raining down
And chuckled at the absurdity raining down
“Oh friend, you cannot remove one grey hair from the giants
How in heaven’s name can you crumble these mountains”
The foolish grey-haired man, singing and young in his caged heart
Said these words, roaring with his liberated mind
“My children shall tear the mountains by their blood-covered hand
My grandchildren shall destroy them with their chisels
My offspring will fight as unsleeping armies in the night
My offspring will never surrender their grand fight
The birds of the blue sky will peck the mountains piece by piece
The worms of earth will eat the fortress bit by bit”
These words reached the wise man’s inner heart beating with wonder
These words reached the sun and moon’s delicate bright souls
So the ships of light carried the message to the blue sky
The Infinite Father of Greatness and Lightness
The blue sky ripped apart the revolving grey clouds of might
The expanse of azure blue split all into two
Daylight shone in the highest firmament of dark violet
Daylight shone in the lowest crannies of Sheol
These two mountains vanished as if they were nothing at all
These two watchtowers crumbled in the gentle flames
Leaving no fortresses between the two flowing rivers
Leaving only an untouched garden, eons old
Copyright ©
David Hyatt-Bickle
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