270

What shall I tell this great mountain?
That I have seen everything from here?
I breathe thin air here
Day and night
I stretch my hands to the clouds
I touch
I tire my eyes to the sun above
I follow the birds flying to the other island
But I shall not rest
I shall climb this great and high mountain some more
To see everything
In a single glance
Without even moving an eyelash.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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