Mountains

The mountains roar.
At night, they growl.
And I look at them from bellow.

The mountains are unforgiven,
they eat whoever's in sight.
Rocks crush your only light,
no direction is right.

Clouds whisper above,
claim to know those who are gone.
But, we all know, they don't.

I look at the mountains from bellow,
in hopes I understand their sorrow.
But, who can understand this land?
Its fables turn to sand.

Rain washes the tears,
of a land moved by fears.
The mountains roar,
they rip, shred,
bite, wreck,
their screams are my soundtrack.

And, I keep on watching them from bellow.
The day turns to night,
a fabric of dark covers the light.
But, still, the moon's so bright.
The mountains are always right.