The mountains whisper across the rugged earth
Echos upon echos shimmering through the millennia
A language far preceding the etchings of men, scratched into the ground.
Reverberating through the depths of rock and soil and stone.
A creaking between the roots, steeping into the mantle, and into the sky.
A silent dialogue, between the above and the below, and the within and the around.
An undercurrent that flows unheard beneath the flimsy corrupting crust of mankind,
We are visitors, and it is not our song the mountains sing.

We drove up through the fog on Jackson Mountain, the music carried the silence with a melodic tune that made it almost seem sweet; it was quiet and loud at the same time. "You want a cigarette?" he asks, interrupting the flow of thought through my stormy mind. I silently take the cigarette from him and put it in my mouth, the cigarette filter touching my lips when I wish it were him instead. I pull out my lighter, a blue and yellow flame assistant making my lungs black. He could never really read my handwriting, and he could never really make up his mind. He never read my journals and he hardly ever touched my face. He slept till 4 in the afternoon and threw the pillows over his head if he was disturbed. He hasn't traveled and he doesn't like tattoos. Him. That sounded so sweet just hours before now ****** my tongue to bleed. my love has turned to resentment and everything he does now has lost its glow, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes don't shout laughter anymore, his curly hair is just a mess now, and his eyes once a beautiful sky blue are just a dusty old ball kicked around in bare feet... But still here I am with you driving through the fog on Jackson Mountain.

I found the sky beneath my horizon
I flew to the plains majestic and vast
I rang the bells of the god in the mountains
I breathed the air of the valley enchanting
I saw the wanderers throught their quest and thirst
I saw the men fall for the valleys at dusk
Ive seen the love that grows beneath the trees
Like the shadowed cloud on a monsoon eve
I felt the drench and the drops so hard
And the mother river flowing very deep and far
I had no doubts And I also believed
I was still curious I was still keen
I had to wander I had to dream!!