Top of a Mountain.

I'm on top of a mountain.

There is a wind in my hair,

soft and sweet.

It gently whispers,

wants to be close to me.

It lifts me high and mighty.

The humble strength of it,

like the peace in a glorious storm.

I've never felt this high;

looking down on clouds.

I know I'm not alone.

The wind,

it changes.

It's strong with hate,

cold against my skin.

It closes around my neck with fear.

I want to run.

This wind is not friendly,

no empowerment found in it.

It threatens.

It's harsh screams are ice to my ears,

there is a passionate distain,

an agenda of ruin.

a wrath that heaps loneliness.

"The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you." -Romans 16:20

I am refusing to come off of this mountain today.