Staring blank….
In front, intimately close and steep, the mountain takes my breath
Cold the rock pokes me deep as I roll on its slope
Cold breaks the silence of my thought as I gaze to my frozen limbs
No name to cry out, just snowy cliffs to build a tomb
as cold as the wind who wants me rolling on still
The mountain demands a soul
I whine and I wail.. and the wind is losing its icicles

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