#26
Glory of Time
I had stood upon a mountain
looking over brown plains and cities
that gleamed like distant diamonds.
The air was thin, cold, and I stood tall.
Trees were like razors
slicing through the rocks and walls,
their mighty fists grabbing tight;
their needles rattling with the wind.
As the clouds played merry
just above me - I could reach out
and grab hold, be carried away -
the rivers gave birth and flowed away.
I had stood upon a mountain
and the moment was perfect.
But the glory of time must fade,
and I walked the descent ever down
and alone.