Letter to the Hill

What's a writer without his pen ?

or perhaps a lion without a den?

A life without anyone by your side

Like a groom lacking a bride.

I've known about this hill for quite some time,

I didn't know it would be where our reconnection would reside

Feeling like Moses when he was on Mt Sinai

He had his mountain and I found mine

The tour guide on the mountain, you can tell it is his calling

Electronically driving this vehicle around : E-Van

His preachings on grace would make you think he was Paul's cousin

You can tell his faith wasn't built upon the sands

Thanks to this Hill , I started to dread walking alone,

Family found amongst these living stones.

Friendships cultivated and flourishing by the stream,

In whose company, my heavy burdens seem to cease.

Now look at the seeds germinating ,watching them grow,

In the depth of my heart, or rather in the status of my soul.

Holy washing on this sacred Hill,

A moment frozen, beautiful and still

This Hill has taught me to trust Him, surrendering it all.

Hill with music that would make David dance as he wrote his psalms

The writer found their pen, the lion found their den,

And on this Hill, wandering hearts found their way back home again.

I wonder if the tour guide understands how important he is

When he worries in the quiet about the state of so many things

I hope he never doubts the impacts he has on dry bones

Through him, God brought this stray sheep back home