I believe I belong here, among the mountains. Where even the hills would take a concerted effort to climb and conquer.
If the hills were able to, they’d laugh that I say I was capable of such; conquering. I am not. I am too consumed with whisper of time ever-presently warning me to move on to apply to anything. But the mountains force my feet to slow and show a different kind of freedom within their fortress. No matter how fast I moved, I could not, in a lifetime, do what the Earth has done to its own solid form. The mountains create a barrier to my pursuit to prove limits are each constructs of our minds. And they seem to be the only thing that quiets me.
My thoughts are loud and fast. They do not break for air before evading my tongue or my teeth or my lips’ determination to keep them in. But in the mountains, they stop. Sometimes the thoughts do not even begin.
I am reminded of my powerlessness; there among the giants. And if you’ve never felt the quiet of utter powerlessness, I suggest you seek it in your solitude. For it will shake you. Your flesh will no longer be separate from the Earth. Your anger, your love, your joy, your sorrow, will all be one and will all be a small, small, nuance to the world’s order.