the mountain doesn't care whether snow has donned it's crown,
which flowers bloom or not from it's skin that is the ground.
which animals are roaming it, is any mountain's guess;
which humans are climbing it; mountains could care less,
whether gold is found within, the mountain's not concerned,
their purpose is to not live...no lessons they must learn.
are they content in being? do they know what they are?
do they wish to climb themselves, or sit under their stars?
if mountains had a heart, where would their heart be?
wonder if, even for a moment, they thought that they weren't free?
the mountain doesn't care if dynamite blows it up,
wonder if the mountain knows it's not a buttercup?
can a mountain see? can a mountain feel?
does a mountain have eyes that cry?
does a mountain grow into itself? can a mountain ever die?
the lesson of the mountain is to know what you are not;
be still in the stillness of all and be what you forgot...
tlc...
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