BECKONING HILLS

There was a time when hills were just hills,
They had no meaning, they just were,
Until the day they became mysterious,
Sometimes dark, sometimes light,
Enticing, entrancing, beckoning,
What wonders did they hide?

Enfolded within them, I wanted to hide,
Be absorbed into those hills,
Their spirit seemed to be beckoning,
From wherever they were,
Within their darkness I knew there was light,
Something so mysterious.

Life to me was mysterious,
So often I’d wanted to hide,
Shrink back from the light,
Now I’d found the hills,
In this new place where we were,
Gently they were beckoning.

Why would they be beckoning?
This to me was mysterious,
Standing where we were,
I no longer wanted to hide,
Someone had given me the hills,
Secreting their everlasting light.

I was now drawn to that light,
As I felt it beckoning,
I knew there was glory in those hills,
A glory so mysterious,
That they never truly could hide,
It fell wherever we were.

And that was where we were,
Enfolded in their light,
Love bade us hide,
It was Love that was beckoning,
It was all so mysterious,
The glory of the hills.

One day I found the hills hiding their light,
I could see from where we were that they were beckoning,
Though it was so mysterious, in their glory I’d hide.