Breath of the Mountain
The mountain broods, an ancient king,
Its throne of stone outlasts all spring.
Its crown is ice, a silver shard,
A sentinel that stands on guard.
Its whispers carve the winds below,
A voice both harsh, and soft as snow.
Its cliffs are scars, its valleys deep,
A thousand secrets locked in sleep.
Yet time ascends with tireless gait,
And even kings must bow to fate.
Its throne of stone outlasts all spring.
Its crown is ice, a silver shard,
A sentinel that stands on guard.
Its whispers carve the winds below,
A voice both harsh, and soft as snow.
Its cliffs are scars, its valleys deep,
A thousand secrets locked in sleep.
Yet time ascends with tireless gait,
And even kings must bow to fate.
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Background: Breath of the Mountain\" captures the stoic, enduring nature of mountains, juxtaposed with their eventual erosion, highlighting the impermanence of even the mightiest.
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