For that pilgrim soul

For the pilgrim soul
Once took a travel
To that road trodden
By men taking the flint
Of a burn,
The road was winding,
Long and to glowing heart it turned,

The visage of mossy trees
And smell of rhododendron
Filled the misty breeze
And the stave helped the climb,

The dustless air and the oxygen
I took within through the veins,
And the faint sound of copper bells
Remained suspended onto the soul,
Much like a verse auspicious,

It perhaps was a freed state
Filled with a vigour to get near
The cliff where rested in the most tranquil shape
Godly sense of a merger with the benign Self,

And what strange occupancy
Took hold
Could never in any words written or told
Only a glimpse of finding presence
Of serenity overwhelming
Took refuge in me.