Every day I wake up and tumble out of bed I see out my window mountains of blue, black, and red. Their tops reaching way up high into a sky of blue.
The sun shines upon them; their beauty shows so true.

The blue mountain – once a lava flow that happily traveled ‘round Until it got trapped and lonely beneath the cold, hard ground.

Its fire for life quit burning, its flame for life went out Its heart had no purpose and it began to doubt. Until one day it got shaken and then forced to arise It was pushed and guided until it reached the skies.

The black mountain was created from a pain deep inside that rose and rose until it exploded – ripping a hole deep and wide. The clouds above turned dark, the rich soil darkened black Then the hurt flowed out, covering it so no one could hurt it back.

Gentle rains fell from the sky which touched its cold, hard heart Over time rain’s kindness softened it and broke its shell apart.

Smith’s Mesa is the red mountain’s name – he firmly stands strong Even when everything around him seems to be going terribly wrong. The winds blow at his face, digging scars upon the land The river and streams push against him, removing his red sand.

Even though there’s new scars created each and every day He still shows us his beauty that will forever stay.

These mountains, they inspire me to always be my best Even when I’m lonely, scared, or must go through an earthly test. I know I can rise above it – and be better than before If I always stay positive and open Happiness’ door.

There’s always someone
to comfort and give a helping hand
Then I too, like the mountains, will forever stand.

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