At Last, My Soul Flies Free
The hills rise, high and steep,
by david lessard
my legs are fairly aching,
I climb in one slow creep,
Behind me, dawn is breaking.
Memories are kind and deep,
as I trudge up one more hill;
They are treasured things to keep,
Grist to the mind, as to the mill.
Some thoughts make me weep,
as I walk along a clearing;
As I've sowed, I've also reaped,
but there's nothing I am fearing.
Silent pictures, in my mind do seep,
Racing through my peaceful brain;
My life's been one gigantic leap,
escaping from the dreaded drain.
Over the mountains, I eagerly peep,
The views speard out before me;
The valleys lay in one vast heap,
and my soul at last, flies free.