The Mountain

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The rocks are my bones.
The rivers are my veins.
The forests are my thoughts.
The stars are my dreams.

My head rests amongst the clouds.
My toes run through valleys.
My heart pounds and shakes the ground.
My blood runs red with molten heat.

Two hikers then begin,
So early it's still dark.
They climb up and up my skin,
And sleep silent in my arms.

The girl and her father
Let days and days go by.
We never tire of each other—
The hikers and I.

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