1/07/22
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What can possibly be said,
to sway a Mountain into bowing before the Wind?
When It howls and screams and shakes the trees,
Will the Mountain ever notice?
Or will It remain immovable and frozen,
as only stone can be in the presence of the weak?
For as long as the Wind could remember,
It had made the caves and the highest peaks of the Mountain Its home.
And for a time, the Wind was happy, blissful,
but as all little ones do, the Wind discovered just how big the world was,
beyond the Mountain's protective ranges and snowy peaks.
The Wind sought to venture farther out from the Mountain,
where there was a vibrant valley of colors and shapes never seen,
but the Mountain became angry with the Wind,
for trying to stray from where It would be safe,
so the Mountain became an avalanche of rock and snow,
that tumbled down and down into the valley below,
destroying the once bright valley with the spreading dust of the Mountain's outburst.
The once happy, little Wind was overcome with shock that eventually whispered away into grief.
Why had the Mountain taken such a beautiful thing away?
Why had the Mountain ruined something It had discovered?
Why was the Mountain so furious at the Wind for going away?
The Wind felt something It had yet to feel before,
and it boiled and ached and pained the Wind,
until It was howling, screaming, squalling, spiraling,
whipping wildly around the Mountain in agony, asking why, oh why, oh why,
but the Mountain had grown still and silent once more,
unwilling to answer the Wind, to offer apologies or reasoning for Its actions.
What else could possibly be expressed,
to make a Mountain bow before the Wind?
to make a Mountain listen and understand?
to make a Mountain explain and apologize?
The Wind was merely a light breeze to the Mountain,
the Wind was a mouse shouting up at an elephant,
and when an elephant threatens to squish a mouse beneath its feet,
the mouse does not simply stay and meet its end,
the mouse does the only thing that it can:
a mouse scurries, it scurries until It's out of the way,
and it keeps going until It is far from the elephant's path.
And so, on a stormy night, when the air was crackling, the rain was pouring,
the Wind slipped away from the unknowing Mountain's reach,
and It glided farther and farther until It was soaring with the birds,
until It raced against the river and blew through the meadows.
The Wind may have been little still,
but not because It was being compared to the Mountain, to an immovable object.
The Wind was little because the world was vast,
and it was because the world was so wide,
because there was just so much for a little Wind to explore,
that the Wind did not mind being so small for once,
if only Its size would allow the Wind to travel through all of the world, to see all of the world.
The Wind found freedom in being a tiny, new Wind in comparison to the world,
because it was an unstoppable force,
and if it ever came across another immovable object,
it would simply blow its way around.
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This one is definitely one of my favorites I've written so far. I love the concept of personifying things that aren't usually personified. I think the story of the Wind and the Mountain is really interesting as well given the metaphors it's riddled with.
Also, I'm definitely kind of slowly mass publishing the poems I had stocked up. Generally one a day until I'm out. XD
Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well in this troubling time in the U.S. :/
Stay safe.<3
-K.
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Burning from my Thoughts
PuisiA composition of poetry filled with bottled-up aggression, chest-crushing depression, and various other expressions. They've simmered and sat, before slowly boiling over. Erupting straight from the pink gush in my head to the words in your hands, I...
