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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/704389-The-Mountain
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #704389
Focus on life, death, and renewal.
Sitting on a mountain, I watched it gently start to snow,
I felt the cold upon my face, as the moon was rising low.
I saw snowflakes drift softly down, as far as I could see,
A soft whisper in the wind, “There is not another like me.”

“I am alone, unique and proud, my beauty for all to wonder,
I come as snow, with winters chill, or rain riding the thunder.
I exist for the moment, bringing joy, renewal for you to see,
Aimless, errant drifting the earth, for I am truly free.”

As I gazed into the starry sky, as soft white floated down,
My peace,my joy, my happiness, was replaced by a sudden frown.
I felt a snowflake on my cheek, then felt it melt away.
Knowing then, that I would too, fade away one day.

“What form would I take then?” I asked myself,
As the snow let up, then it rained.
We sat there together pondering, the mountain and I
Until only the mountain remained.
© Copyright 2003 Stormbreak (ryantait at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/704389-The-Mountain