the mountain inside is growing

it lays quiet

far more silent

than a whisper

and the wind that presses against it

is absent from its mind

towns are built up against it

“How will we use this mountain?” they say

their time, is not the mountain’s time

they build up themselves

moved by their positions

while the cold hard mountain doesn’t move

it lasts

where rain and suffering

open its depths

to the truth

of time.

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