I see you there.

From fog capped mountain peaks

Overlooking a busy ocean seaside

Where sheep graze along the hillsides

Between large, ancient stones

I see you there.

On that windy, black-paved road.

I can see you

Moving in that monstrous,

Lumbering, motorized wagon.

Inching upward towards the mountain top.

Towards me. Towards us.

You move closer

And pause in your thoughts

These peaks are shrouded from your eyes,

and yet I know you are squinting.

At that dark patch of fog?

Or perhaps a shape you thought,

a glimpse as you made your way

around a bend.

A wind blows the clouds

And those shapes shift

And you put it out of your mind

For a time.

Eventually your gaze finds its way

Back to the peaks

That are hidden from you.

I have waited. – We have waited.

For ages.

And you forgot us.

Forgot me.

We have watched you all spread,

From our little corner of this world,

Your people adapting their beliefs

as they suited you.

With such blind,

Self-centered lives,

Filled with destructive avarice.

And yet you, sitting there,

Seemingly on a whim,

Can feel me reach out.

And I can see you reaching, looking,


Wanting more.

Knowing in your heart that

Something deeper calls to you.

Something to fill the gaping void

The disconnect you have in your life.

We wait, and we watch,

Calling to those who might hear us,

Perhaps in futility hoping that more would come.

One out of every sixty

Or every hundred

Might feel their gaze pulled upwards

To these lonely, fog-shrouded peaks.

And it is a start.

We wait at the top of these hills,

In between the deepest trees

And shade-shrouded woodlands.

We wait as we always have,

In brooks and rivers,

Springs and bogs,

In fields both tilled and fallow.

We wait as we always have,

For you.

For you all.

To come back to us.

To come home.