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The Pilgrimage
Weary beyond the limit
of endurance
Walking on in almost a
state of trance
Bleak barren landscape
lay all around
But for the pilgrim it was
the holy ground
With strong resolve and
his head bent down
One step at a time he
kept moving on
Up the steep and frozen
mountainside
Chilling harsh wind with
no place to hide
At the top of the mountain
stood the holy shrine
Very few could reach it if
the weather was fine
of endurance
Walking on in almost a
state of trance
Bleak barren landscape
lay all around
But for the pilgrim it was
the holy ground
With strong resolve and
his head bent down
One step at a time he
kept moving on
Up the steep and frozen
mountainside
Chilling harsh wind with
no place to hide
At the top of the mountain
stood the holy shrine
Very few could reach it if
the weather was fine
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The Pilgrimage
The Pilgrimage
