The Mountain is a sly

Unquiet killer

Depending on its mood

It sways and bends to the elements

Like ice wind and snow

Still it stands

Standing still

Waiting for an avalanche

To BREAK

Where branches break the sun

And little kids shoot marbles

Pining for the alps

The alpinist climbs higher

But we know Icarus is always bound

To fall into fate

His pride his bait

Baiting him a dream

A fall from Grace

A fall from the summit

A fall away from home

Into a new homecoming

While Mother earth swallows yet another

Life

Back into its womb of dirt and dust

Their bones a stone

One with the Mountain

The Mountain is a Stone

And the stone, a tomb