Serenity is thy virtue, thy self, thy creation,
For thou art a mount aloof,
The winds on thy temple know not cessation,
Thou carry the skies, our worldly roof;
Mountain thy name, steep sloped be thou,
I dream of reaching heights
You were born into, and how,
To marvel at absolute blackness of nights;
Of inky curtains peppered with stars,
I labour onwards, courage my motor,
And climb those wind-made scars,
For a glimpse of your life;
And in this, I observe
Lives past, and my own - temporal,
Inspired by your infinite reserve,
Holding aloft the heavens eternal;
Time flies for it knows
Its sheer impotence to affect you,
A bud may bloom and wilt as a rose,
But the mount awaits forever.
