The Mountain

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The piercing light hit my eyes and caused me to cover my face. I woke to the blinding radiance of the sun. After moments of being dazed I looked out at the world. I was regaining my composure. I sat up and looked on as the clouds parted and drifted over the scenery before me. My existence seemed to be so minuscule compared to the vastness that stretched out from all four corners that surrounded me.

I felt the touch of the air, the cool breeze that whisked away and would descend. There was an eagle flying overhead and I watched as it circled and would scout the treeline, waiting for a victim to quench its hunger. My feet hung over the edge, swinging from side to side. The height did not scare me but I was wary to position myself in such a way that I would easily gain access to the top. The sharp blades of the mountain side would pierce my skin and scrape off the rough textures of my skin within minutes if I was to fall.

I began to hum the tune that rocked between my past and present. These were the moments I felt free, letting the solitude and solace of the world take me in as its own. For the most part, I felt as if I never really belonged. Just a mere spark or entity that manifested by a collection of others, two other individuals who were ruled by chemicals, thoughts, in their brains. I was the by product of months, prisoner awaiting his sentence and chained once released to find an end and be placed to feed this magnificent sight.

Why should I speak of such a sorrowful tale? Must I continue to mask the thoughts or even the notions of how meaningless it all seems to be? I’ve climbed such a wonder only to see the frail hands I now stare at. The scars and bruises. These hands that have brought and carried pain. I turned them over and examined them closely. Each fingerprint said to be unique. I briefly looked at the other monstrous face opposite of me. The mountain was covered in snow and I could only come to wonder how such a wonder was covered by individual snowflakes, each crafted and separated by its own design. Was it like us, us humans? Were we like the snowflakes?

I managed to find myself now looking to flowing waters that swerved through the landscape. In a way I could feel its current, even from this height. Every time I looked out I would briefly find myself looking up at the eagle and felt as if I was sharing its vision. The fishes that splashed or swam through. The bear that was in its waters and trying to catch a meal. I could see it all, no, I could feel it all. My palms were pressed by my sides on the hard formation, and yet I could feel the surge of life that flowed. I was at a loss, what was this feeling? One an instant I was tracing back memories to find a purpose of such a life and in another I was bewildered by the intricate and complex beauty that encompassed me.

Years of isolation flourished and was nurtured by such mere remembrance of what once was. Bathed in regret and anxiety of what was to come, had become, and what could have been. The feeling was drowning and I could feel the swallowing of the dirt welcoming. But despite such a pull, I was pulled to such heights that I was rising from such despair. The internal battle that faced me was a challenge and yet I held my ground. My mind felt the depth of the earth, burning with the core. On the opposite spectrum, my body felt the freeing nature of the heavens and reveled in the space among the stars.

I looked on, diligently seeking the answers that swirled within and around. I was just the face of the mountain, feeling the warmth of the sun and in other times, having the cold bury me til morning comes again.

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