Among the mountains

 Away from all guile,
where the stones smile,
And silence sings a song
to mountain wind's gong,

With disarming translucency the sunrays

seep into the stones' heart cold,

The eagle flying so bold,

A new reality hitherto untold,

Morose and weary,

and the soul all teary,

I walk on the stony path

with needle sharp memories

frozen in the mind,

like the glacial ice behind,

With a cunning discretion

they slowly creep

by inches over the years,

jarring the stones,

rubbing boulders and crags,

I want to escape

from all that breeds pain

for some soul's gain,

And the stony solitude

seems to feel my estrangement and platitude,

It embraces me,

Bares its secrets for me to see,

Furtively slide a few pebbles,

Dead grass breaks its drowsiness,

It sways

and prays,

With a resounding laughter,

the wind runs after

the stony peaks,

Bubbling and gurgling

a little stream from a glacier,

A huge boulder greets,

stifling a yawn,

in its clumsy, gruffy voice,

I just stand there,

My soul ready to bare

all pains and listlessness,

And looks at the icy summit

standing there like a peaceful hermit,

For comfort, solace and guidance.