Forest paths and along rocky shelves a mountainous terrain, underfoot but simple steps peered crevices, lofty scapes, downtrodden things the messages of space and time not yet forlorn though stark sublimity; more nimble avenues than sheep dare, a windborn precipice of seeming whence daunted by the sight, thence humbly still.
Some tracks, in pace of venture, seeing or finding cry out themselves, as if the rocks would speak and the wind whisper; there's something here more than meets the eye, as shadows dance trees bend and raise, waving branches the leaves clapping their hands- one last breath before the plunge while very Earth is heaving.