my call cries

 

it climbs to the top of the mountain 

 

the mountain of all hope

 

over this heap of grief and sorrows

 

 

over the history scrawled in its crags,

 

the guilt and condemnation

 

of all the generations of man

 

 

 

I am in the fire atop

 

and in the cooling light beyond

 

 

 

in this moment the call brings me home

 

and I am borne in light of the morning sun