The mountain always seems to speak.

  When I listen real slow, the mountain tells secrets whenever the wind blows. 

It knows more than you nor I, it knows more than the birds that fly high.

Theirs a secret up there, I try to uncover it while I stare.

The mountain is beautiful by far, it seems as though you could climb it and reach the stars.

but yet, its all in my head. im not on the mountain, on the ground instead.       I wish to venture up there for the secret that is being kept, for now i must stay here, and watch the sheep that have slept, while ive imagined the secret far away in the mountain lair, far beyond the clouds up there..