closer to God go we.
|If I had known my basket of dreams|
would bring me to this mountain stream,
where the injured soul of a gambling man
could have healed sooner with a different plan.
Away from the raging wind of temptation
the electric energy of wilderness stirs exaltation.
Like the fountain of youth, a drop of rain
cleanses the soul and washes away the pain.
This rustic land far from the highway
can turn a man into a poet with much to say
about beauty that artists try to replicate
but only God can duplicate.