I climb the hill of my feelings

To satisfy my sight.

I seek to find, my reason is lost.

In my estrangement my soul speaks.

Abandoned as a discarded plant

I look to thee;

All thy greatness is in my sight.

You leave your dwelling

As thy sun seeks its resting place.

I am rooted to your very being;

My branches cover your presence;

You move under my shadow.

I understand with the vigor of thought,

Thy body but with a glance.

I admire you without weariness

And explore you from discovery to wonder.

I praise thy sculptor,

Him, the all-wise, the all-bestower

Who, beneath the pounding of my misled heart,

Long ago fashioned your existence

For the accomplishment of compassion

And the gift of the essence of love.

I am the spirit who observes you;

You do not know me,

Yet you are a reality well known by me.

Source of poetic water from above,

Inspirational rain from the sky,

From thee my feelings are nurtured

Even in thy obscurity of me.

My words remain silent,

And for thee my existence still a fable,

A dream that I shall never share,

A poem never to be written.