Once I sat a-pondering upon a hill not mine own.
I borrowed someone else’s mound
To see what they might see.
Or think.
Or feel.
But I did not feel,
Nor think,
Nor see
Anyone’s sights, thoughts, or feelings
Other than my very own.
“Methinks”, I hushed to myself,
“That there is only One Who has seen all
Thought all
Felt all”,
Not only for himself; but for all mankind.
And this is His mound upon which I sit,
Aspiring only to embrace all the world
As He has, is, and ever will.
Picture from Rashan, Kosova, 2006
nstaniger.com 
Lovely. So lovely.
Thanks, Les. I didn’t communicate what I wanted to, and so was a bit disappointed with the post. But alas, one cannot force the muse to come.
A lot of times mounds are burial mounds . . .
These were actually burial mounds of sorts. Not too long ago bombing and gunfire filled these mounds in the Kosovo War.[Please show that you are penitent for your unwitting pun ; ]