The Lone Mountain

The Lone Mountain

Rising high in the distance, standing alone.
A fortress shrouded in heavy mist.
A thing of power, a pinnacle of stone.
Remaining though all other life desist.

Stooping in shadows when the sun rises high,
Cold winds whipping its surface and howling through crevice.
Jagged edges from centuries of wear, sharp: like walking across a floor of broken glass.
Cliffs, Caves, Cracks, Clefts, Empty and alone.

Dominating the landscape around it- seen from desert and ocean.
The gritty taste of sand kicked up in the wind,
Blown spinning in endless circles,
Intermingled with the salty essence of the sea.

Standing alone, surrounded by flat plains,
Majestic in the half-light of dusk.
Unexplored, untouched by man,
A mystery, frozen through time.

A gray peak ascending from the golden sand.
Waves booming on the shore.
Beautiful and Imposing.
The Lone Mountain.