Mountains

Mountains. Sometimes, I dream of being them.

And sometimes, when we are together, I tell them about being human.

This heart is made of light, I say.

My mind imagines it is not.

When my heart and my mind play,

and they always do,

I let my heart win,

by the most intimate of margins.

They like hearing about the mind. Fairy tales they say.

There is no arguing with them. Mountains cannot be moved.

Maybe you can talk to them….