A field of grass

sways lightly in the breeze.

My boots tread softly on morass,

while the wind carries the bees.

It is here,

at the bottom of a mountain

that I go to disappear.

A place where my soul is mounted.

With the waterfall pounding

like a drum in the distance,

I find my happiness abounding,

myself subsisting.

For I know the flowers

and animals will do me no harm.

The little insects, instead cower

as my approaching steps cause alarm.

They understand what it is like

to be so small and lonely in a big, big world.

They know what it is like

to live in fear of not fitting in.

Without their camouflage

they stand apart from the crowd.

Awaiting ridicule from some entourage,

so they live their lives cowed.

But for me, I am tired of submission.

That's why I look to the mountains,

for it is their mission

to stand out from their surroundings.

They crave to be different

from the time they

are little hills, indifferent

of any limitations in the way.

So I sit at their base

aspiring to gain their confidence

and learn to embrace

my own.

One day I will grow

to love who God created.

Hoping to be as powerful

as those mountains are captivating.

But for now, I will leave

my soul mounted

and cleaved

to those most beloved mountains.