Sanctuary

There still must be a secret place, a land where no one comes to call, I saw it clearly in my youth, a forest near a waterfall. The valley was obscured in mist, and I had stumbled on that spot, but then moved on to grander things. In time the sanctum was forgot. But far from home and tired and old, I often fall into a dream of safety and a hidden glen, and sacred meadows by a stream. Some night the dream will come again, and I will build a cabin there, to welcome then my peace and rest, relieved of burdens and of care.