Set Upon a High Peak Set upon a high peak,
A man with a scraggly gray beard and more wrinkles than teeth contemplated his existence,
Where he fit in this cruel world.
He remembered his early days,
Lonely,
On a dusty farm in Tornado Alley,
With no friends or siblings,
Or even parents that cared for him.
He thought of his three young children,
Plucked from their mother's womb,
No air in their lungs,
And no color to their skin.
He cried for his late wife,
Who left too soon,
Her passing an unwelcome demise,
The last flame still flickering for him,
Long burnt out.
The old man sat awhile,
Forgot nothing pulling him back,
No one to call him when supper was ready,
No kids to tuck into bed and kiss goodnight,
Not even a furry mutt to walk.
And as the sun started to set,
Far on the horizon,
A pinkish glow,
Illuminating the blue sky in a vibrant hue,
He couldn't help but laugh,
For pink was his wife's favorite color,
And green was the color of the glass on the lawn of the bungalow he bought newly wed,
And yellow was the color of the nursery that belonged to his daughter,
A miracle baby with red curls and freckles,
And brown was the color of the murky stream behind his childhood home,
Where he spent summers fishing,
Not a care in the world.
Once the pink of the sunset had faded into black,
The old man smiled,
For he knew,
That for all that was bad in this world,
There was just as much good.
For all that was cruel in this world,
There was just as much love.
For all that was tragic in this world,
There was just as many miracles.
The old man climbed down the mountain that night,
And although he can't visit often,
As his eyesight isn't what it used to be,
And his right knee is sore when it rains,
Whenever he witnesses the sunset,
He gently reminds himself,
That from only a sunset can a sunrise come,
From only a storm can a rainbow materialize,
And from only all that is wicked and evil will love and kindness conquer.
