London Central Secondary School - Golden Glimpses Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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But they never shall see it. They are not strong enough to climb the cliff or young enough to even hear its challenge. For a long time, like most, they have heard only the voice of materialism. They have even forgotten that they ever heard anything else, for when we ask them to understand, they only worry, or curse. Mountains are made for seventeen -year-olds to climb. Only our eyes can look out and see freedom in the hills. The wind whispers the secrets of truth only into young ears, for the older ones are all filled with the roar of disillusionment and the wax of self- compromise. The eternity in the rocks and perfection of nature inspires youth, only just beginning to try to attain these things for himself. On our mountain we have not yet been convinced that it is impossible. The purity of our hearts and the joy in our comfortable lives makes us believe in ourselves. On our mountain, freedom, truth and perfect happiness do exist. We stayed there for as long as we could in the setting sun to savour being. How difficult it is to be calm when such joy is in your grasp. At times we fairly screamed with excitement. Then we would sit hand in hand feeling the pulse surge in complimentary rhythms and realize that at least half the joy was in the fact that we ' d shared the revelation and, in that, proved it true. The sun had set when we reached our secure little dingy. We rowed back to the boat in the afterglow without a ord and boarded with no hint of our secret. We knew that we ' d probably never make the climb again together, but our mountain will always exist. Peggy Eberhard

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We had sailed for a long time. Guided by an experienced hand and propelled by a wind impossible to control, we came about into a secluded bay protected on three sides by cliffs of white quartz. The waves had been exciting and we all shared that happy worn feeling that envelopes you after a day in the sun. Those who had worked hard with the tiller and sails, relaxed for the first time and we were free at last to go and explore for ourselves. In the beginning I never thought that we would ever sail together, but he ' d asked me to come when we were sure enough of each other. If we ' d tried a year, or even six months before, it would have been terrible. You really have to know each other well before you can sail together. We rowed lazily away from the big boat and landed our dingy on a rocky shore. Tying it securely so that it would be there on our return, we headed into the woods for the long climb. It was five minutes before we felt the sunshine again. Standing on a rock ledge, we could see from where we had come. Surprising how small the adults and the child in the boat looked. We ' d only been gone a few minutes and yet how far away, how far above them we seemed. The sun was approaching the trees in the west when we reached the top. It had turned golden and the whole forest with it. The islands in the distance were in a green shadow, dark and obsequious. Here and there, a deciduous tree had already turned and the red and yellow splotches were like a warm tear on a perfect cheek. The water, far below us, caressed by a gentle wing, kissed in turn the rocky shores. Blue like no other blue and as deep as we were high, its currents made intricate patterns as they played among the islands. From our height, we could also see the perfect reflection it gave of the white cliffs above. Quartz in the glow of the setting sun is almost too holy for human eyes. So much beauty takes the breath away. But breathe we did; great gulps of pure, clean air that weren ' t enough to satisfy our desire for it. It whistled through our hair and our clothes and made us fairly dance with the joy of it. We stood on the edge of that dizzy cliff and looked down a zillion feet to the tiny sailboat and felt that we, instead of they, could at any moment, sail away. From our vantage point, it seemed we could see a thousand miles and a thousand things we ' d never seen before. Acutely aware of the fact that we were two of perhaps ten people who had ever seen what we were seeing, we felt as if it belonged to us alone, and we to it. We ' d always had enough to eat. Never had there been a lack of care or affection. Never had we been without beds or warm clothes, or even nice clothes. We were too young to have felt the hold of real depression. Too young to have gone sour, we ' d never felt the void of disillusionment or chill of death near at hand. Yet we were old enough. Old enough to have felt the pressure of fast city life, we were aware of its absence here. We were old enough to have learned the ways of our world and old enough to know that this was better. We ' d already had years of science and history. Here on our mountain nothing really seem ' ed to matter but philosophy. If only every embittered old man could spend but one hour atop our mountain. If only every tired woman could stand here a moment with someone she loved. Surely then they could feel beyond them- selves.

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THE SUN I love the world I worship it I never want to die, I live for it and keep for it - and never wonder why I breathe and speak and hear and read and plough the fields to plant the seeds. And on and on for years and years, Man dreams his dreams then disappears I. Vilim ' MR SHORT AND SWEET My Primal liberty, you took. My last conspirator, you found and Killed. Please may I scream? January ' 71