High in the mountains,
above the cities
where all was calm—peaceful—
a golden moon shone down
lighting bare branches and fallen leaves—
lighting the dark pines—
It shone on the lake, in a valley in the mountains,
making golden streaks upon the waters—
Christ walked on earth that night and stopped near the shore of the lake
He looked into its depths—
at the sky—at the moon—
and felt the cold night air on His Face.
A great sadness had overcome Him.
God had reflected a corner of Heaven to men on Earth—
and they did not pause in pleasure or in sorrow—
no one felt the beauty of those mountains.
He stood alone by the lake—
again looked into its depths—
What peace—what beauty—
Down below—
men grappled with death
not beautiful death
but hatred—lust—filled their souls.