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