All ears have heard but no eye has seen
The old man resting high on the mountain's peak
Engulfed in the smoke of mystery
His garment as large as the wings of the eagle
Hovering and shielding over his own
Ears reaching down the end of the earth
Eyes piercing through the waters
In the beginning was he and everything to him belong
Don't Blame the old man, his position places
A standard as high as his life
Demanding nothing less from they that he calls his
Time is controlled by his hands and season is placed under his feet
Releasing the moon while holding the sun captive
One day at a time ,from season to season


© Olivia Nutifafa