We perch on mountain tops
Their peaks our crumbled thrones
Though I can barely see your beacon
I feel your breath carried on the west wind

You echo through my caves
Resonating with the rocks
Toppling empires of stalagmites
As you carve a winding path
To the chambers of my heart
In my weather-beaten core, where open veins glisten
Haemorrhaging their precious contents
Your whisper catches an up-draft
And, buffeted by eddies and bluffs,
Spills its tender words over my cold ears

We may seem immobile
Roots planted in shifting aeons beneath our surface
But, though they may not see it,
We march towards each other
A slow dance through time
Crushing every obstacle
That would dare to stand between us.