I long for those heavenly uplands
The crown that soared above my youth
And despite my regular wanderings
No summit can come close.
There’s a magic in their contours
That speak of histories forgot
Imprinted in their hearts of stone
Whilst planted on their plots.
I hear whispers in their waters
That babble from a stream
Or thunder from a waterfall
That seep into my dreams.
I taste welcome in the mountain air
And gasp in their hellos
I relish victorious apogees
That only gods should know.