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.