Old mountains have rounded peaks
A wisdom of passage of time
They are easy on the eye, pleasing, serene
Their lines flow like rhythm and rhyme
Clouds lie gently 'round the mountain peaks
They don't seem to swirl and leap
Lying soft along the quiet curves
As the mountain seems to sleep
Young mountain's lines are sharp and steep
Their rights they seem to be taking
They tear and rip the clouds apart
And their beauty leaves you shaking
They rise up from out of the Earth
Screaming with strength and might
Fighting the elements for youth and beauty
Laughing from their great heights
The young will learn as the old have done
That the elements will win in time
And they too shall slow and become serene
Flowing like rhythm and rhyme
