Unusually High Mountain
Few cities are,
Like statues in a bowl.
And here I,
The all seeing eye,
Am marvelling again,
For her textures.
The concrete razors,
Tear at the sky.
Holding back the winds,
And shredding daylight.
Watching here,
My daydream comes,
Of golden rays.
Covering all, coveting all,
This mountain whispers.
The secrets of time,
That hold no sway,
Over her burdens.
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