The shadows are passing over this mountain,
And lately, faith is falling off in boulders.
What are the shadows?
And who conducts their changes?
From billowing clouds overhead,
They reflect and sway,
Slowly across the blue sky,
Their boot heels clicking the mountain base,
And tossing the gravel into pillars of dust.
From down here they are heavy and cold,
But way up,
Outside my time and beyond my sight,
Wind pushes these shadows into another horizon,
And the moment of darkness,
Is a small patch of misshapen black.
Covering what is truly,
A vibrant, fertile earth.
The sun is coming,
Oh yes, I can see—
The sun is bursting forth.