We walked a Brecon hill,
In that grey and cold September,
Lured by promises of a scenic perspective,
Across the wide and generous landscape.
We trudged with leaden feet,
And creeping damp and cold,
Cajoling a rabble of children,
Reluctant to walk the way.
We progressed upwards through the heather,
Our heads all bowed in empty reverence,
Till the top we finally did reach,
And for our efforts, our reward?
A dismal scene of grey,
For mist had over shadowed, that pinnacle achieved,
And with feelings of despondence,
And promises undone our hearts were filled.
But though our faith was weak,
And our resolve so quick forgot,
A brief moment did but pass,
And a revelation was then prepared for us.
For the mist that capped that summit,
As a single cloud did rise,
And so reveal to human eyes,
A spectacle of wondrous scale.
Arranged before us was now seen,
A world of glorious creation,
And hearts that were so quick to sadness,
Were instantly with joy uplifted.
So belief had finally won the day,
For though our faith was small,
Nature revealed her joys to us,
Who’s hearts may least deserved the prize.
How much more then will be the treasure,
Given to those who true of heart,
Maintain a faith in nature’s divine goodness,
When all the mist of doubt do hide.
(22/8/09)
