what is left of the mountain

the melancholy mountains
vulnurablity
roaring streams and waves
break it all down to plains
the gound fights it
but water cuts and smooth away rock
the sky smothers the sands
the clouds adds a dregree of softness
but even that blows away with
the snores of the wind
we grow tired
a break down
from our toes to our necks
as we grow old
future generations
complete the cycle
to venture in our steps
not taken
possessions are left
maybe are passed on to youth
material things can't breathe life into
a decaying body
only thoughts
emotions
feelings
are remembered
with no true value
but they last like the oak
they last in the form
of tears laughter and clarity
they last in rage and regret
sometimes satisfaction
like coolness of thundertorms
in the hell of Summer
misery will not consume
what is left of the mountain