Whispers on the Wind

‎Whispers on the Wind ‎ ‎Rainfall and Reverie at the Mountain's Crown ‎ ‎I climbed where silence wears the sky, ‎Where clouds and cliffs in stillness lie, ‎Each breath a hymn, each step a prayer, ‎Above the noise, beyond despair. ‎ ‎The rain began—a soft ballet, ‎Its silver threads in gentle sway, ‎No thunder roared, no storm was near, ‎Just whispered truths I came to hear. ‎ ‎The wind, it spoke in ancient tones, ‎Of moss on stone and weathered bones, ‎Of suns that rose, of stars long gone, ‎Of all that passes, yet lives on. ‎ ‎Below, the world in shadow slept, ‎Its dreams in folded valleys kept. ‎But here, where earth and heaven blend, ‎I felt beginnings, not the end. ‎ ‎Each raindrop kissed my lifted face, ‎A quiet blessing, a small grace. ‎Not lost, but found without a sound— ‎In rain, in sky, on sacred ground. ‎ ‎So if you seek what can't be taught, ‎Where storms bring peace, not battles fought, ‎Then climb the path, and let rain spin ‎Its whispers on the mountain wind.