High Place – a poem not about art

O, come walk with me, she said,
And I’ll show you a place I know.
A high place, near the sky place.
A special place you need to see, she said.

Down paths that only she knew,
I followed her, I walked with her;
Starting unsure, the way obscure,
But with ev’ry single step my trust grew.

Up a steep steep hill we strode.
Out of breath we reached the top:
Flat top, plateau, so high up,
Grassy sides either side of an old road.

Together atop that hill, we
Found beauty, peace, and respite
From ev’ryday cares and spite;
Feeling stronger and better ready.

If there be magic then true
Magic resides in places like that.
Call it soul – call it spirit;
The name matters not. ‘Tis it’s own value.



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