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High above trees that rise to the sky

Standing on a ridge that climbs in rock

I can see further than a thousand years.


Hard white stone that has weathered

To winds that have borne fragments of memories

Etched into veins that savage the heart.


Torrid river below that runs turbulent though meek

Branches dragged into currents that spit and scream

Yet can gently gurgle and smooth boulders to gems.


The air is silent as I sit amid the clouds

And ponder a path that leads to somewhere

A path which will show me calm and quietness.


No one stands beside me as I gaze to the future

A crossroads with no direction to walk

A journey I shall tread alone.

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