First there is a mountain

First there is a mountain

Then there isn’t

Then there is again

The vision dances

Like a fountain

In a silver rain.

 

Upwards, upwards

From our footprints in the sand

Skimming rooftops made of clay

And with trusting outstretched hands

We blindly feel the way.

 

So high do we fly

That we penetrate the Earth

So many times must we die

From the instant of our birth.

 

The rock, the wind, the sky, the trees

The rivers and the seas….

From an oval-windowed sanctuary

We gather in our breath

To witness our next death.

 

And spiral pathways

Twist and curl

Upwards upwards

we are hurled

along the double-helix

of our world.

 

First there is a mountain

Then there isn’t

Then there is again.

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