Mountains

I moved to a higher ground.
A colder wind.
But people of the warmest kind.

Their faces splashed red.
Soaking in every bit,
Of their paradise.

Numbing fingers,
Shivers every now and then,
But I was more alive.

A peace that was unparalleled.
And a quiet that belittles,
The worries of a mundane life.

In those weathered rocks,
Jutting out of nothingness,
There was beauty of a different kind.

I moved to a higher ground,
And with every bit of my rise,
It completely overtook me.

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