Night has fallen on the mountaintop.
The stars dazzle-gleam tauntingly
As I stretch to hold them
As I ascend into the heavens
And fall back,
Cowering in the pregnant gloom,
Waiting for the blow
Which will send me hurtling 
Back into the foothills.

Why must my satisfaction ebb? 
Why must the distance regrow?
Why set me in an endless cycle
Of toiling upwards, 
Glimpsing the glory,
And sliding back,
Sentenced to wander the desert again?

A merciless refrain of relearned paths
Wearies my soul.

So meet me in the foothills,
Singing of completion.
Let the hollows and the heights
Echo with the promised hope
That one day I will rest,
See the Son rise on the mountain,
And be carried to the cleft 
Where saints and shadows never fall.