Traveler

The mountain pass looms ahead,
Pocked with snow covered rocks,
I pause before beginning my descent,
To listen to the mountain talk.

I hear woeful moans of lost spirits,
Of bandits, warriors, and death,
A blue cold penetrates the shadows,
With a wind of devil’s breath.

My gaze turns to a waterfall,
Gushing with the mountain’s tears,
It crashes into the river below,
It’s rapids running in fear.

I step forward into my journey,
The mountain pass invites me in,
Trees sway with a whistling laugh,
As silhouettes stare a grin.