The mountains sit,
passive observers of the world.
They watch the feeble ministrations of humanity,
moving about like ants.
Some will build dwellings on the rocky face,
others will dig out ore.
Many will come and many will leave,
a blink in the time of the giant.
Passive in humanities eyes,
The mountains feel timeless and unchanging,
Yet they are dynamic,
Their time moves in a completely different scale.
That rock-slide took minutes yet was a fraction of a single heart beat in the life of the mountain.
It’s birth took millions of years.
We humans are but a fraction of a fraction of an instant in the mountains existence.