My mountain is calling to me. I hear it across land and across sea.
My mountain is there in my dreams. I see my mountain standing on the flat plains. It is watching me. I am a young boy riding a blue bike. I am laughing as I ride around and around in circles. I am light and free. I watch the bike’s front tyre as I turn and turn and turn. And suddenly, the whole world is turning but I am still. I stop. I look at my mountain. It is still. It is heavy on the earth. We are like the sun and the moon, my mountain and me.
Oh great mountain, you remember me before I remember me. You are in all my young memories.
You are with me now, even though I am far from you; even though I am too far away from you.
I remember you when I am anxious. My pulse may race, but your stillness is with me. The spirit of you is in my heart.
I remember you too, when I feel life’s power coursing through me. I am lifted up. My head is in the sky but my feet are on the ground. You are beneath my feet.
You are the mix of sky and earth that I have sought after every day of my life.
I long to be near you. I long for the land of my birth at my feet and you by my side. It is through this longing that I hear you calling.
I hear you. I hear you.
And I will return to you. I will bring my own child. We will stand at your mighty feet and I will tell my child of you; the things you have taught me: strength and courage; sky and soil; sun and moon.
I hear you calling.
I will return.