At the Mountains of Madness

My ordinary life - like the plain stretching across the region of my birth, has been for the most part rather smooth. Though sometimes on my path, I’d encounter hills, they were few and were not difficult to get over. One day on my travels when I was still young I came across a man who, like a majestic mountain, would take my breath away. He captured my attention completely, distracting me from all the normal things my plain life had entailed. When he smiled, it was as if the sun were peeking over him in golden splendor. Madly in love with him I fell, and every day I worshiped at the mountain. This was a short phase in my life - a time of pure enchantment but also woe. I behaved as if I were a stream, a babbling school girl murmuring with joy for a while as I meandered the mountain’s pleasant aspects, but one day my meandering came to a halt. Coming to a cliff’s edge, I became a waterfall frothy with madness as I plunged to the rocks below. Picking myself up, I had to turn my back to the glorious mountain. A final look at him, and I saw the red sun sinking into June’s cool night. Finding my way back to the plain, I trudged. At the mountains of madness, I’d known something - something I had foolishly mistaken for love. Other mountains wait there, for me, for you, for almost anyone who desires to find one. But since my later summer years and in my fall, I’ve kept walking on the plain, for it is truly, after all, my heart land. for the But it was not real Poetry Contest of Lewis Raynes