How I long to be outside and up high.
Nothing compares to the view from above,
And the vivid color of the blue sky.
It sits upon flat terrain which I love,

Majestically judging its unequal.
The mountain is a place of lord’s prayer;
Resembling a colossal steeple;
Beckoning people to kneel and declare.

Without its presence I am in despair;
With no inspiration and or reason.
I need the imperfections and crisp air,
Or else there’d be nothing to believe in.

Without the mountains there would be no love,
And no where for a lord to rest above.