I climbed up to a mountain 
and up there I met a man
with eyes of blue a beard of grey 
and a friendly outstretched hand

He said to me, "Would you like to see the view?"
I looked around and said that I could see it fine
He said, "I know what you can see 
but what truth lies behind your eyes?"

He took me to the lake below
with water clear as glass
The birds they circled up above 
and each one quickly took a pass

He said to me, "These birds fly over oceans, 
over countries, over towns 
to reach this golden passage
the safest lake around."

He said to me, "How far will you fly?
Do you really want what's best? 
Will you fly to what is closest
or ten thousand miles west?"

"Who is this man?" I thought, 
who seemed so passionately free
he was anomalous at first, 
but he reminded me of me

We walked among the woods
up the mountain from the lake
He said, "The water is crystal clear, 
but there is always give and take"

He said, "When it storms upon these mountains
and the rainfall hits the leaves 
that the water is filtered cleaner
as it flows among the trees."

He said, "Will you filter out your anger?
Unclench your fists to be free?
Will you sacrifice revenge to make the water
beautiful and clean?"

We ascended to the peak
crunching leaves under out shoes
I looked again upon the earth
this time it seemed a different view

He said, "The beauty of the peak,
is that it is easier to see
but in the thinning of the air
it's more troubling to breathe"

He said, "People come up to the mountain
to find strength because they know
that if they can win their struggle here,
they'll breathe much better down below"

"So come back often to the peak
take some time to see the view,
fight to breathe against the darkness
and return as better you"

I turned around to see the man,
but in that moment he was gone
all that was left was wisping air
and in came a rolling fog 

The man I will call a mystery
left behind were lessons shown 
his words echoed all around me
as if they could have been my own

I returned back down the mountain 
my feet felt lighter from the help
maybe one day I will return
to teach a younger version of myself

Mason Lee Poetry