The peak

I went to the place,

Where land meets cloud,

And stood there with my face,

Enveloped in that shroud.

My ears too cold,

My beard too moist,

Not even a mold,

Could survive this hoist.

But got here I did,

To look down at my home,

The way the trees hid,

Behind the marquee of foam.

I saw a peak above my spot,

And thought of her age,

The mountains paused not,

Their all-pervading gaze.

She was here before we came,

She'll be here after we're gone,

My visit to her bosom,

Holds awe only with this one.

I sat down to behold,

As far as my eyes let me,

My lids grew heavy with cold,

But I knew what it meant to be.