I stood aloft the mountain, clouds in reach my mortal hand,
Aloft I stood the mountain,
Below lays a choired land.
Below the rolling valley, her blanket sailed in grass,
A place where all time stands,
Held perfect in gentle clasp.
A perfect moment that will stay, forever it shall last,
Once stood my prayers present,
Now sits my heavenly past.
Standing I stood where many a mortal did stand,
Below sits choired valleys,
That hymn this miners land.
No need to open my eyes, no need to awaken from dream,
This land laid out in front of me is real,
As many sleeping eyes have dreamed.
Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler.