Soliloquy of a mountain ...
Soliloquy
Soliloquy
People say, I'm great !
My head rises high above clouds --
so high that even most efficient birds
can not touch the icy-crown adorning me.
Sometimes one or two adamant climbers stamp
their foot-prints on top just to prove it can be done,
but loving mother nature covers these irregularities
with forgetful snow quite sooner than they expect.
Streams flow out of my breast --
they travel to far away lands to bring prosperity and joy,
everyone thanks me for guarding their life and civilisation !
But I'm barren ...
full of rocks,
life on me is restricted to foothills --
I'm stuck at one corner of the continent
far from warmth and hustle-bustle of plain.
I don't want to stand motionless !
I crave to mix my soul with the streams,
to convert stony rocks into fertile soil forming new lands
to be levelled so that I can play with other children of nature.
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Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain.
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