From this mount will the fire roll
To take its toll on my forlorn soul.

Here I have trod to meet the living God,
Standing on burning desert sod, out from behind any church façade.

To meet the untamed Creatrix in all her wild variation for inspiration,
Apart from any ecclesial illusion or theological delusion.

To feel the heat of unbridled love from the God above,
As fierce as the lion, gentle as the dove,
While I lay me down naked at the foot of the mount
                           To be lavished with all and more my soul could want.

No pseudo-god imprisoned here, but only truth,
                                                            No confessional booth;
No.
No bells and whistles or doctrinal thistles...

On the God of Thunder, her Majesty of Wonder!