~

~

The view calms me
Slow moving clouds
Shrouding the peaks occasionally
The scream of a bird of prey in the distance
Smelling the herbs and flowers

All is peaceful
There is no rush, no stress
No demands
I can let my shield down
Be utterly vulnerable

The ancient mountains
They speak to my soul
And I recognize their voices
Flowing through my being

They speak of the wind
Of the snow and ice
Of old times
And the birth of new times

Silence is filling me
Cell by cell, liquifying me
Until I’m nothing more
Than the mist shrouding the peaks

~