Up Lookout Mountain

Upon the mountain is a little city
Founded upon the stone,
Bedrock heaped up out of earth
Woods lifting hoary branches to the sky
Clothing the unshakeable rock.

In shelter of forest, houses stand
Grafted into hard ground, fragile
Soil harbouring abundant life
Where wild things run in the shadows
God-curious man stations his young.

On this secluded mountain children
Of man flock to the precipice
Assemble at the peak excercising tongues
With thoughts in words and seeing visions
They hear voices speak of both faith and folly.

At the foot of the mount a big city
Invites the young sons to her streets
Where empty buildings beacon, beg
Invasion, the business of shopkeeping
In which man revives the empty vessel
At home with the muse who gives birth to thought.