Stunning mountain ranges are only as beautiful as the adversity it weathers. The arduous storms that churn and smack the side shape rock to an ever new facade. Every moment can be beautiful just as much as it can be treacherous. Walking along the path that is well worn through raw Earth, it is difficult to not compare the terrain to that which has been trampled before.
The mountain knows what she has gone through to grow to such peaks of bounty. Years pass with vegetation attempting to grow across the sparse landscape. Those who claim to have bore the mountain only shaped it through adversity, not the gentle wash of a stream or a hard summer storm with winds shaking roots thicker. Others wish to conquer the mountain. Yet only so many have acsended to her higher peaks of grace.
As the hiker climbs the path opens up between the trees. Small signs freckle the landscape of previous travelers. These signs displayed refuge or ruin, and some of the ruins were stamped with plaquards.
"H E R E W A S W H E N . . ." with the tale associated with the marker. Other times a path was laid out ahead, clearly designated to be traveled along - yet the hiker was curious and found other routes, some being kinder on the body than others.
Expanses of forest, critters, fauna, and tranquil waters are spattered throughout the mountains surface. Truly, the hiker sought the cabin at the top. Curls of smoke flutter through trees, being seen from miles away. This was the haven the hiker would seek. No matter what the mountain reveals with every step taken the journey was only a part of the travel. Finding peace traversing the overgrown expanses of root networks underfoot lead to sanctuary, and that was always worth the travel.
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
