The mountain which stood before me,
Decorated with trees and ice.
I closed my own eyes,
As I found my destiny.
It's touching the sky,
Hearing its cry.
Not allowing winds to barge,
Standing tall and strong.
Sing of beauty,
it's one of their duty.
All the birds flew away,
Up into the fluffy cloud.
Leaving us alone,
The mountain and I.
YOU ARE READING
#➊ 》𝕵𝖆𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖞 : ℍ𝕪𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕙 𝕄𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖
SonstigesWelcome to the first-ever issue of "𝑯𝒚𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒆". Here, we'll take you through a variety of things from artworks by our members, to short stories, poems, the current happenings of the world and many more as you enter this Wonde...
