M O U N T A I N

Amidst the mountain storm in a peaceful cabin I wrote

A quarrel with my burdens

Mountains being the antidote

The paper before me and the words that I write

The words I sing in the dark of the night

The water flows and leaves shake

My thoughts go and I finally break

A reflection ahead but its opaque and unclear

I wipe my eyes and long for what's near

I can't, I can, its vast and its wise

But it cannot be seen by the one who designs

The reflection I see, although blur and dim

A man amongst men, I hope to be him