The Highlands Poem by Göran Gustafsson

You came here empty minded
In this weary world one day
To shape a soul out of body
As the potter moulds out of clay

You walk this lonesome valley
And your feet is getting sore
When you think you made it home
You have to walk a little more

You rest yourself in meadows green
And pray the sun to heal the scar
Then onwards on your journey
Unto the quest that waits afar

You wade in the winding river
And you try to find the key
To the flow of living water
That will open your eyes to see

You came here empty handed
And nothing will ever remain
Other than what will come
From giving life back again

But somewhere 'yond the mountains
'cross the valleys and the sea
There is something in the Highland
That calls for you to see

Copyright © 2008 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved