Not Just a Mountain
Look over there.
Toward the East, barely kissing the horizon
Stands an old mountain,
Its stance so tall,
Years of thick skin.
From playing the violin.
A minute, a week, five years
For centuries, everlong
She was told to forever
Stand still.
To play her violin
until the strings wore thin.
Little did she know,
The potential she carried,
her Strength from within,
So deep, it was buried
until she thought,
'mountain, not just a mountain,
but anything,
and everything',
she thought.
She was told to forever
Stand still.
To play her violin
until the strings wore thin.
Little did she know,
The potential she carried,
her Strength from within,
So deep, it was buried
until she thought,
'mountain, not just a mountain,
but anything,
and everything',
she thought.
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