Keeper of the High Places
He stands upon the mountain stone.
wrapped in turquoise winds and crimson dawn.
A golden halo crowns him.
as if the sun itself chose him to speak.
His gaze carries a thousand winters.
sharp, unyielding, wise.
He is the bridge between heaven and earth.
between the breath we take
and the dreams we chase.
The mountains bow beneath his shadow.
and the sky listens when he calls.
He reminds us that strength
is the gift of clarity—
to see far,
to see true,
to see with the heart
before the eyes.
Keeper of the High Places
He stands upon the mountain stone.
wrapped in turquoise winds and crimson dawn.
A golden halo crowns him.
as if the sun itself chose him to speak.
His gaze carries a thousand winters.
sharp, unyielding, wise.
He is the bridge between heaven and earth.
between the breath we take
and the dreams we chase.
The mountains bow beneath his shadow.
and the sky listens when he calls.
He reminds us that strength
is the gift of clarity—
to see far,
to see true,
to see with the heart
before the eyes.
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