Who We Are

One day in the mountains I saw a bird,
Majestic it flew so graceful and spry,
While it soared through the sky to me it occurred,
That its wings could only ascend it so high.

On this path through the hills that humbly wound,
I leaned on a tree so worn and wised,
Its roots grew deep without making a sound,
But it’d be forever a tree this thing I surmised.

I kept moving on at a steady pace,
And I came to a rock so sturdy and strong,
Though immovable in its solid place,
It’d never walk the path that I carried along.

Stopping to admire a lone standing flower,
So elegant, so beautiful, so humble and nice,
The scent to one’s mind can thus empower,
But to me to be a flower would never suffice.

When I reached the summit of my very own hike,
On top of the mountain I knelt and did pray,
I felt in my heart how much I was alike,
To all of those things in an incredible way.

I thought, I can fly like the graceful hawk
But my ascent beyond does extend,
And be immovable as the sturdy rock,
But free to travel the path to its undeniable end,

And be wise as the old, still standing willow,
But endless can be my solemn ambition
And be as beautiful as the most intricate flower
For the rose testifies the soul to fruition.

Then I gazed out at the remarkable valley,
So immense, so pretty, so grand,
That day in the mountain I did finally see,
That day in the hills I did understand,

I realized that I was a work of genius,
And to me I thought kind of odd,
Beyond imagination our potential so is
For we’re all the children of an eternal true God.

With tears in my eyes I looked into the sky,
With a grateful heart I gazed up so far,
Everything testifies of the gospel divine,
And of our potential to be whom we truly are.

-Jacob Winterfeldt