Mountains of the wild

Cool breeze against my face
echoing eerily, stifling my breath,
I once stood atop mountains
magnificent, with snow capped crowns.
Looking down to find deep plateaus,
ruled by nature loving Indians.

Horizon expands, showing more mountains
raising and falling, decked in green,
with silver streams interlaced,
trimmed with ribbons of man-made roads,
feet fixed deep in dark green moss,
In awe I stood, my heart racing fast.

A voice within gnaws at my heart
to break free from bonds of duty,
to fly back to wild mountains;
where spoken words exist not, where
silence talks of violence and peace,
where realization dawns without prompting,
where wild beauty reigns; a
hiatus to refresh my spirit and soul.




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