DREAMS IN SCRIBBLES

In a land where cold winds chill,

And houses lie scattered, lonely still,

There stands a mountain, tall and proud,

Silent, ancient, wrapped in cloud.

He never kneels down,

To the wind so strong.

Never succumbs to the power,

Of the blazing sun.

He’s the king of this place, he believes.

No one can conquer him,

Not even the tides of the sea.

He thinks, ‘There’s nobody as powerful as me’.

He commands. ‘Don’t dare to make me cross,

Otherwise, you will be at a loss’.

Everybody sinks into their shell in fright,

Afraid of this king’s might.

Beneath his heart of stone and towering might,

Lies a truth hidden from sight.

He can’t scurry about, like the little mouse,

He can’t hunt nimbly, like the giant tiger,

He has no brains, not like the cunning fox,

So, what can he do, this king so grand?

Only stand proud and make demands.

What happens when the people cease to fear?

When courage blooms and doubt disappears?

They rise together, their courage grows,

And the mountain’s limits they now show.

With all his pride and all his might,

He stands alone all day and night.

No legs to move, no voice to sing,

Frozen in stone, forever still.

So, think, reflect, let wisdom grow,

True power lies not in fear or show.

Look deep within and find your courage,

To pave your path, have enough rage.