Mountains

Mountains

All across the lands it is told

of these fabled mountains cold

and how many have ventured far

to be considered great and bold.

Blowing in the wind are the pipes

of many creatures of mythic types:

some sing, some ease into dreams.

One flies high, others wield their spikes.

An ancient and deep thrumming

churns the seat of the earth’s humming

and deep into the misty spire

is a Magi’s meditation on endless drumming.

In ceaseless thought he mentions

to darkness dancing, other dimensions.

In creative power he raises those dead,

Stirred from memory to theurgy’s invention.

All across the lands it is told

of these fabled mountains cold

and how many have ventured far

to read the scrolls, dusted old.

Cursory gesture is seen by the eyes

of beasts, people, and divine prize.

Whence forth the war begins in light,

and half-magic effort fails as it tries.

Energy crackles in electric blue

might surges forth, cadence hue

is sung just right, sought ascendency

and effort tried at least goes through.

Vision of the song grants great strength.

The honor it is to sing at length

of the great Magi whose magic

will remain greater in effort forever.

Motions passing through the mist

hint at forms both promising and missed.

Things loved by all who crave more,

this is a secret moment, a shared kiss.

All across the lands it is told

of these fabled mountains cold

and how many have ventured far

to seek the promise of the gold.

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