The aspiration, no matter where you travel.

Climbing up a mountain top, reaching in height,

Enduring in the storm, hope nowhere in sight,

As a stalk breaking through the rainfall at the rise of dawn,

As the blessings of abundance in the wilderness drawn,

Though the rivers throat may be parched, though you may endure the bitterness of winters chill,

Where the rivers are uncrossable, and aspiration becomes a standstill,

As a lion waiting in the grass, as a hunter at the ready,

As a treading ox plowing sure, but steady,

As eagles take flight soaring in the skies,

As a man and woman longing to stare into their lovers eyes,

Though you endure such suffering, such anguish is a constant pest as you roam,

Remember where your heart yearns to be, a place to call… Home…

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