The wind~mind
seeks to break free
from teeming-town below.
The mountain path
crawls Intestine
winding with
no destination.
Leaves cascade in
silvery evanescence
from a Spring sun;
songs of changes
the forest weaves.
Mountain breezes
sound against silence,
sibilance of
pine strings.
The clear tones
of icy streams
over sobbing stones
not yet worn pure;
As distant, unstoppable
as the thudding of war.
Shadows shifting,
changing constantly
the mountain face:
You must not go,
Yes, you must go.