In the valley
Tear to tear, breaking
heavy steps. A mountain
I must climb and deliver
every hunt- to the sweetest
waterfall. All burns, all scars-
must remain where they began.
Every flower has its nectar, this
seed to be born, is a symbol of
rejoice. In a garden where all
was burnt; in need of pouring love.
And of many little stars to move
with this bruised heart. In the
Valley of secret mourns, where
mountains hear the cry, and the
mist darkens the route. This
mountain I must climb it will
always take the steps through
the glorious hand of God
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Added by Poetry Lover
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