The Tears of the Mountain

"the story of knowing from a distance"

The tears of the mountain have become mist upon my face,

from the highest place, the tears first came,

falling, melting, flowing,

until they leap in cascades of glory,

and in their passing, the mountain is not the same.


I gaze upward to bathe my soul in airy rain,

to breathe in the moment that is come and gone,

falling, dancing, splashing,

sparkling angels on my soul,

like crystal shards of a silvery dawn.


Drop by drop, the mountain is swept  away,

its tears bring with them the dust of majesty,

falling, falling, going home,

the rains, the snows, become streams below

these newborn waters, the distant sea,



The End

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