When she woke up, the scent of a new dawn already filled the air outside her room. She looked around and in the semi darkness, felt the bed. He had left. And on the table beside her bed was a little note She looked at it and then turned the mild bed light on, and held the note in front of her. It read:
"I want you to wake up to the most beautiful morning of your life - trees
whispering in morning breeze, lilacs in bloom, spring in the air, distant snow clad mountain peaks blowing cool, soothing kisses towards your cheeks,
clouds pregnant with love ready to rain, .
The worries and anxieties and a thousand other concerns of the world left far, far behind..
Fresh in mind, born anew in limb, a fresh light in your eyes, a new
glow on your face, and thoughts only of happiness and love for
everyone. And no ill will towards anyone. Anyone whom God regarded worthy of receiving life from Him is worthy of our love.
That's where I have always wanted us to live.
But to live there, Nature demands us to rise in mind and soul to a stature which matches Nature's own. I was never able to rise to that, pulled down now by this weakness in my being, now with the other. But the peaks kept calling, have been calling, are calling. When I look at my
legs, they already seem reluctant, claiming more weariness than they feel. I do not want to quarrel with these legs. At my age, one doesn't quarrel.
I live where dreams have been replaced with prayers.
There is a stature nature sets for us to rise to. .
This morning, I pray that you rise to that stature, a height I missed but yet a height which I wish and dream and pray for you. I pray that you rise to recognize the infinite truth - which is infinite love, which is infinite beauty - peeping at you from behind the smallest particle of dust.
I pray you rise free of your nightmares. I pray your embrace the nightness of the night and then leave it behind . The womb of the night was glowing all night, and I saw it sitting beside you as you slept peacefully, all night. I pray that you hold that glow close to your bososm and carry it to the huts of the poorest of poor, the neediest of the needy, the most unfortunate among the suffering. "
I pray you answer the call of the peaks."
Apparently, he had left only a little while ago, because the bed felt still warm.
She read the note, and then looked out of the window towards the hills and mountains that spread outside her room. Hills are truly God's abode, she thought, and kept looking into vacantly into the distance.
From somewhere afar, a note floated on the breeze, the rise and fall of sound seeming to measure the peaks and vales in the vast landscape that spread outside her little Hill hotel room.The song streamed gently in: