Stone speaks in whispers here where ancient ice carved truths into ridges that remember what the world was before and trees teach seeds

My boots find rhythm on paths goats once knew when seasons turned differently and silence had weight

Wind carries stories from valleys I’ll never see while peaks stand witness to my small passing

Each step breaks morning frost that forms like promises fragile and certain as breath in thin air

The way forward curves beyond what maps can hold where distance becomes something other than footsteps

Here, where sky touches everything and nothing I am both lost and right where I belong