Roy Farver's Page

Monastery Hill

Oh hill that I am destined to climb, I can see your path so near.
A steady stride I’ll take at the start of your base.
I bring all that I own and leave all my misfortune behind.
With every step a lost piece of my past, like a toss of a pebble.
I’ll leave falsehood states and valid quests to the populace.

With your turns and winds, and a magic story that is dear,
I head for a place where men go to pray and meditate.
Fasting to be with god, I will suffer to heal the world.
Angels flying and demons laughing, these are visions of stories told.
The devil is caged up and the holy laws are sealed shut.

When I reach the top there shall be nothing to fear.
Yet there is a wonderment of all that I leave behind:
The games that the children play and their plans that they make.
The women who feel like fresh fruit from a tree, that I grew.
The people who cheapen their souls for a moment’s pleasure.

When I begin to fast, will my mind become very clear?
Will the thunder skies move within the weakening of my desires?
Will the dilution of my body’s demand for attended needs?
Will the thoughts of god and a past of sin, be with me?
Lucid endowments arise from angels or demons or imaginations.

Will my vision be of sights that I dream I could hear?
My blood runs through my veins as streams upon a tree.
Will the angels speak in a foreign tongue, or as children sing?
Will demons laugh sound from a well, or from a hyena’s cry?
Will the city at midday be the scream of torture or the calm of sleep?

I am to be contented with this new life I am to bear.
I ponder the hill or rocks I climb today, with no one else.
There are no women or city news to confuse me, way up here.
Who am I to see, or meet in this place so strange? As I reach the top,
I see walls of mud and clay, skies of red, and gray men who stare.

He looks old, white as clouds, feels warm, and has a jeer.
He is the monastery overseer and his name is Francis.
The air is moist, damp, and my clothes are torn from the climb.
Francis walks to a room with a dirt floor and a new robe.
He points for me to be here, this is my room for my long span.

I am finally here. The climb up this ended with a tear.
The stories and mysteries will unfold: the magic is now mine,
To share with all who climbed this hill before me.
I shall clean my face and body to wear this new robe.
The sandals of straw fit around my feet perfectly.

I will sit at the table, walk around, and do all at the rear.
I have been new at all I did, tried everything, and felt insecure.
I will bow my head and pray for those who I knew: ones I didn’t also.
I walk slowly and meditate on all who I knew and loved or hated.
I see the angels and the demons in the true order of the world.

I will soon go and fast, I need to eat an apple or a pear.
And sleep in the dirt, or on tables made of stone.
I shall take water and the book that Francis gave me to keep.
When I wake I will go to the rocks near the cliffs to sit,
To look over the cities in the world from where I came.

I have my place where I sit and meditate. Its ideal for this year.
From here I see the world below and all of the delights and grief.
The baby lovers, baby killers, and the baby fighters born isolated.
Drug doctors, drug pushers, and drug users fighting to live or die.
Money gamblers, money deceivers, and money workers fight to provide.

Since my climb up this hill, Torah is what I am to bear.
I sleep in the dirt, barely eat, and meditate without a tear.
All this magic is not so mysterious. By now it has become clear.
Of all that I had, it’s the sound of the ocean I long to hear.
All things I see in the world make wonder what I had to fear.

Written By Roy F Farver Sept 1992
This is the poem I wrote in 1992 as my final project in creative writing class.
There is nothing else that I would change. In every line there are his past thoughts and deeds. There are hidden meanings and imaginations that only the readers will see.

I know that it is long but there should be a place for poems like this or I should start my own web site for others like this.
Thank you, Later Roy .