The Mountain

At the top of the world, a mountain stands.
Sticks out, high above the clouds.
Slowly whispers down,
“There is nothing for you here.”
You stare up,
It stares down.
You wonder what is there, at the top,
You are guided by your fear.
The whisper returns, it haunts you, as the winds carry it near,
“There is nothing for you, here.”
 
 
You turn around to a familiar path,
The mountain behind you.
And at your back, it still stands
Now it is no longer haunting,
It leaves you wanting.
 
And the wind carries something new,
Another whisper,
As the clouds drift over, and the top is revealed,
You hear what the mountain has spoken:
“There is, something for you here.”
 
Turn around, face it all,
Hear the mountain’s call.