The Mountain in the Mist
Step out the front door and what a sight you behold
Such a vision, so tall, the top is shrouded in cloud
Snowfall hides the green of the clinging trees
So precarious and lonely in their silent beauty
The forlorn peak looking down on our busy world
as we rush here and rush there, yet we never move
The old mountain soars above it all
A silent witness to our troubles and pain
So cold it looks at it’s jagged peak,
looking out my picture-window
It’s somehow calming as it keeps it’s lonely vigil
It’s never-changing silence in a world filled with sound
Upon it’s slopes, many creatures call it home
And below, people cling to it’s slopes in desperation
It’s the one constant thing in a world of sudden change
How many people have you seen come and go?
How many heartaches have you heard people cry?
You’ve been there for ages, yet you never say a word
You keep all our secrets, a silent, towering ghost
Unbroken by time, unaffected by storms
Seemingly forever with your sun-drenched flanks
Like an eternal friend we can tell our troubles to
You reach the sky, yet are close enough to touch
Vast distance, yet your nearness we can feel
You’re the mountain we can talk to; the mountain in the mist
© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.
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