A Piece from the Pinnacle

It's been twice already....sitting awkwardly in those chairs, wondering why I don't feel a certain way, my feet pointing towards the door, and then before the last "amen" is pronounced, I make my escape towards those beams of sunlight glanced through the window doors, lighting up the outside. I walk off feeling like I just slipped some undefineable chain from my spirit. Behind me, I'm sure the announcements, and all the socialization is going just fine without me. But my feet, as my pace leads me away, are longing to be stretched and used, besides standing during the invitation song. -And my shoulders would rather bear the sun's wearing than the ponderous burden of wondering who to go up to and ask how they are doing with the return reply, "fine, thank you." It is highly probable that God's Spirit is floating among these assemblies....but I know full well that His spirit isn't confined just to a group of nicely dressed individuals with good voices, a bulletin loaded with amiable programs, nor sermon points one, two, and three.
So, twice its been already that I drove off toward some mountain. Alone. While families pour into the restaurants, I pour out across the horizon, hoping to bathe in the golden streams of the sun, and to drink in the wind like its a fountain echoing with the voice of God. -And there lulled quietly into the swaying of the trees, the tempo of the rock, and the roaring of the sky....to hear their songs and learn from its notes....of humility, and peace, of wisdom in the ironies of time, and of the transcendence of beauty as it erupts from every natural thing.
And all the while, the pressures that surround and lay siege to one's life, they disintegrate before the blazing voice that is heard ontop of mountaintops. These pressures, they soften to hushed whispers, "Become this...Accomplish that...Buy these....Find her....Satisfy them", And beyond and above it all a melody flies in the outlaying stretches, "Behold this...Sit here.....and Seek ye."
I go to the mountains, the woods, the jaggedness of the wilderness to catch sight and immerse myself....And everytime I descend to its depth or ascend to its summit, I'm baffled over how to communicate what things I feel and see. What words can form the vaguest shadow of a presence that is discovered there? What are these undeciphereable sounds spilling from my mouth? What is the base assembly of letters and these curvy characters compared to every bead of thought and emotion my soul picks up from the sun, trees, and clouds? One day, though it be years from now, I shall walk down from the mountain and give appropriate utterances to what is there. But for the meantime, I am back done from the heights, my feet are resting on campus, my ears filled with restless chatter....and my mind already forgetting the sublime.