The Hills are Alive NaPoWriMO

High in a hill lived a lonely goatherd;

everything is dependent on perspective;
no one asked if someone wrote him
or if he climbed up to find the way out.

No one wonders why we run
before we’ve learned the letters
to spell the truth;
adolescences mounting sofas
while nuns hide in the cloisters of hills
as another nation
finds a symbol to hide behind.
It can be lonely in a crowd
that hasn’t figured out the note to follow Me.

High on a hill lived a lonely goatherd.
Everything is dependent on your perspective.

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