On the Holy Hill

His voice shakes the earth
But I’ve never heard it do that
His whisper shakes me to the core
It breaks the bones of my soul
It tears my heart in pieces
It floods me with terror
It gives me hope.
I imagine He sits on a hill somewhere
I have never seen where
I have never seen with my eyes
Yet I cannot help but believe
And it is not really something to control
Beliefs are not like light-switches.

I always look up
When I look for his face
Maybe that’s why I climb
My heart thinks that somewhere
Up on a hill
Is the master of all there is.

Less and less
I try for philosophical points
In every statement I make
As I once did
Yet still I look up every hill
Still I look up.

The years have not been kind to my heart
I have not been kind to my heart
Life has not been kind to my heart
But I look up at every hill
Maybe one day
One day when I am gone
The ones who come after
will reach that hill
And tell Him who sits on it
about me.

He who sits up high
Can raise even the dead
And all who long for Him
Know this.

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9 thoughts on “On the Holy Hill

  1. We will surely tell Him of you soullwalker. Indeed, I already tell Him of you often on my morning walking meditations. This is a most soulful poem here, a little sad, but also hopeful! Keep looking up high on that hill!

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