Rampage of an Emotional Cremation of Reason and Logic

Has it not been a lifetime already?

Has it not been miles and miles of laughter and crying, of joy and pride?

Even the hard stone gets eroded by the cool soothing wind over time, and a lifetime seems long enough for any stone.

But stones crumble and fall down when the hollowness left behind by the lovely wind eats them inside-out

And is it not wind's nature to flow unstoppable and unrivaled?

Is it not the seducing dance of her exotics arms an embracing touch of warmth and care?

But a mountain remains unhallowed, thawed only on the outside, getting tired of Wind's constant leashing

But the mountain remains silent, mourning only the perils of staying at her side

Like a lovely rose in bleeding fingers he endures the constant charge of the howling blizzards that merciless Wind strikes down

And the mountain won't budge.

Have we not all seen the crown of the world, full of ice and touching the skies.

For any mountain that awaits long enough the ceasing of the Hurricane will realize how futile his defenses were

Age will result in only two kinds of birth for any mountain:

The peak less, blue-dressed, ice-covered ranges hurling towards the sky, in vane trying to grasp the dancing wind, from which we have al learned that unrequited love is an accelerator of entropy, quickly mugging the scarce heat that resides in a stone cold, stone hard heart. For all of those mountains proud enough to enclose their core with masks of rock and sand and rubble and wall, the harder they pretend to be, the colder they turn. And it will be an ultimate death, reaching the loved One in the form of a mindless corpse of grudge and repentance.

But for those mountains that open way for the Wind through them, and endure the ravishing, lascivious endeavors of energetic invitations, they will find tunneled beneath the core of their hearts a chamber to the heart of hearts, where the warmth will comfort both rock and wind, and two in one they shall inter-wind, and fireworks will shoot in the sky and the contents of the heart will spill out through the mountain's mouth as the tiny rocks should have learned to do. And eloquently shall these ranging volcanic mountains enter the Circle of Fire within the grasp of Wind, which will warm inside and out and kiss endlessly until the hearts of hearts is frozen.

And that, will last an eternal life time of laughter and crying and joy and dancing.