Who Made It All

That peak that I sight, covered in white of snow, how mighty it is, letting you know. It stands tall, with only a few having seen, the fall, from its top. How rare, is its back down, with lush verdant green forest, all over grown. In that I could venture, in an adventure, the flora and fauna, as if a peace house for Lady Madonna. The blue bouldered river that drew and flew, from its middle, had me rambling along its shore, with this riddle, who made it all, and maintains so well, not allowing it to, decay and gall, answer me answer me, in doing that, they look heaven wards, and sigh, he knows and he did, ask him if he would, answer your prayer and bid.