Metamorphosis Of Life To A Mountain

In the secluded seashore of an isolated island, I build the castle of desire with sands of dream, protect the fragile precincts with fervent care from the beleaguering waves breaking on them. The surge of strife washes away the forlorn abode, grief gets hidden in my insular heart lonesome. In despondency I make my life a desolate desert, the charm of oasis desiccates in discontent dunes, blazed by the flare of the scorched mind the foliage of ardent passion burns, doesn’t rustle with the tune of impassive melody of my heart, for I am denounced as a derelict wooden person. That’s when I’m gripped by metamorphosis trance, that transmutes me into a mighty mountain, rooted in life, yet free to hold the stilled essence high. The daunting mountain makes me formidable in the undulating rough landscape of life, but I find the aspiring people climb me as ordained. When the solemn summit alluringly calls, they follow the undefined tough trail on me through the surging storm of tribulation. I carve for them the course to climb with devotion along the designed pathway God has made in me. On His benevolent unstinted graciousness I let them repose their resolute and devout trust. Firm faith will show the right path to the summit, in dark nights for them the dreary squall I endure.