Larger farther, farther still

Til size seems nature’s will,

To grow and grow,

Mountain from hill,

And never slow

But only spill,

As rock to rock is like to flock,

Tumbles down unto its stock,

Thus, man to man in village lain

Looks upon the visage plain,

Seeing within a tyrant face

That ushered harsh, divine disgrace,

Turning the tyrant into stone,

So that he might but rule alone,

Least that’s what man’s myth does say,

Which holds to mind that oft does play,

Thinking, “what use are nature’s sights

If from them I cannot take rites?”

Well, I tell him that within the rocky

Rise of snow, no tyrant king is far below;

No meaning wise is lithified

There unto man benignly pried

But for that lesson left inside

Ye wish of nature to instill,

And more it is a man does will

That lifeless things do spur his quill,

Are subjects fit for canvas brush,

To quell the mind and spirit hush,

As prison to that tyrant king

The knaves unto the mountain sing,

“Justice still is on the earth,

As is glee, as is mirth!”

Though, ah, I think it no more less,

And almost as if I confess,

The frozen mountain’s upward breast

Has nothing human in its chest,

Naught but stone and sand and clay,

Despite the mind that wants to play;

Therefore, learn from other stock,

Lest ye wish to learn of rock.

-Poyetikos