They are the only ones that push me. We are the only ones that climb them. Two steep mountains with weathered exteriors and many layers, like me. Two who do not belong anywhere else but here. Two towering creations produced by nature. From our trail, we can see them, but the others just march on and don’t recognize their beauty.
       Their strength is forgotten. They are much larger than any of us realize. They reach the clouds and reach the grass and house trees and animals and touch the sky with bare rocks and never falter in height. This is how they reach.
       Let one forget its reason for reaching so high, they’d both crumble like sand castles in a hurricane, each with trees and rocks crashing down to the same beat. Reach, reach, reach they say as I climb. They preach.
       When I am too tired and too sick to keep reaching, when I am a tiny speck amongst so many rocks, that is when I look at the mountains. When there is nothing left to worry about, save the breeze and the heat. Two who grew beyond belief. Two who stretch high and do not forget to stretch. Two whose only reason is to reach and reach.