Walking through the hills I found
That deserts are quite dry
The sagebrush tells a stilling tale
And it’s you who must ask why.
Leaving off the finer things
To bask in natures iron fist
The wind blows dust across the hills
And comfort is what’s truly missed.
I embarked with thoughts on fire
And had them quenched with biting sand
The mother’s blowing chill desire
Is to see me in the land.
Death seems but a step away
And all the wishing is quite sad
But wind is blowing sand around
And happiness cannot be had.
So looking for the better thing
I walked into the waiting hills
And climbed upon the crumbling rocks
Until my soul had had its fill.
A Soul's Walk 
Well-crafted poem – beautiful, on both metaphorical and literal levels. I feel that aching soul-hunger…….
The soul does ache sometimes.
Very, very well-crafted, indeed; Betty and Soulwalker! I am always amazed at how your straightforwardness becomes so enchanting. Yes, “I lift my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help…”: we must climb up away from whatever mars our vision in order to fill our souls! Very memorable!
Thank you for saying such uplifting things granbee. Cheers.
i have to admit there are many of your pieces of which my soul has not had its fill =) i feel the grit, the sun, the heat, and hear the whispering sagebrush…transformative imagery =)
That may be the highest praise I have ever received about my writing.