To he who would live in that cabin
At the top of the mountain
Reveling in the endless view of all things
Above the clouds
Above all pain and hatred
Who would live in the shining sun
In that humble cabin
The wood taken from the sacred grove
Polished by the ethereal touch
Of good intentions
Know this:
The sun will burn you
The vista will become pale
And the quietude a burden
This cabin
At the gasping heights of aspiration
Is meant to be only visited
Write poetry here, make love
Walk the forest of dreams
Polish the wood of this sacred house
With your glowing heart
Then go home
The air here is too rarified to sustain life
The grandeur is blinding
The ground has hidden stones
And there are snakes
Go home
Gather up the love
And the visions
And take the rugged path home
Plant your dreams
In the rich earth below
Water them with your tears
Comments
Michael Mayhew
December 12, 2015
Permalink
title?
Great poem - I think the title could be better. Rather then rehash the first line, maybe something that resonates with the theme or has multiple related meanings.