Why is it that God always comes to us on a mountain?
What turns the whisper to a booming sermon when you ascend that hill?
What gives this journey life again when your high above the rest of the land?
I once thought it was proximity to the sky brought me closer
Unil I learned God was grounded in the earth.
So what might I learn from the place where the dirt meets the clouds?
Something about a storm that pours toward the sky,
Something about a raindrop returning to heaven.
Revealed in that school that protrudes from the ground, inside its photosynthetic professors.
I had a teacher that was named after their sky-dwelling master, the rotating altar of light.
It’s swirling petals of the living sun reflected the nature of the life giving sun’s spin.
And as they danced I played a simple tune for them.
Only spiraling from sun-tonic to sun-tonic.