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The mountain man can stand more pain than most,
He lives much closer to the holy ghost.
Rough-hewn survivor and by tempest tossed,
He's proud and free but knows what freedom costs.
On sunny days the storm lurks close behind,
As lazy rivers down the canyon wind.
The wise man scans the cliffs for shelter rock,
To hole-up from the fury of the shock.
So seek a cave that's deep and dark and precious,
That when the storm clouds come will be most gracious;
Where safe as night and hidden underground,
The secrets of the heart are often found.
Inside the cave you'll find a wondrous sight,
Flickering moments shown by candlelight.
An angel, purple gown and golden crown,
Wearing a warm wool shawl all wrapped around
Her shoulders; and her luminescent wings
Shine bright; the rubies in her silver rings
Sparkle; she stills your soul and softly sings
Of peace; a message brought to earth for kings.
copyright Ron Stephens 2012
all rights reserved
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