They are the only ones who entrance me. I am the only one who respects it. One prodigious mountain with broad shoulders and a mighty bliss like mine. One who belongs here but gets trampled. One marvelous feature annexed by nature. From my bed, I dream of them, but everyone else just sleeps and it never crosses their mind.
Their strength comes in height. They tear the Earth from beneath the crust. They stand tall and tumble down, latching the attention of those deserving between their crooked backs and challenge the sky with persistence and never give into the anger. This is how they stand.
Let us all forget our reason for being, and drool like Pavlov’s dogs, each with our own reason for staring. Stand, stand, stand they say when I sleep. They teach.
When I am too withered and too worn to keep standing, when I become too tiny of a thing among so many other tiny things, then I return to the foot. When there is nobody left to understand me on this planet. One who stood despite a cold world. One who stand and does not forget why. One whose only reason to be is to be.