Someone had set first, that mark on the mountain,
As much, to make it back from there,
There, was it not, what, what you would call it peace.

In the pictures and in scope, of the harshness,
And cold air in that place, it is there,
As is the reason why it draws those to it’s beautiful face.

And in awe, that we do not see the face of Jesus,
But know in our heart, it is He, even there,
As the mountains grow in front of us, to draw that journey.

In the hope and in spirit, of His graciousness,
And at the foot of what is written there,
There, was it so, what, what you would call it peace.

©2008, Ron Globe