The song of the unseen peaks

For all the peaks you’ve never seen,

There is a song, a prayer:

Of snow-clad peace in white and blue,

And smiles in the mountain air

That song is spun from plumes of snow,

That the peaks present to the sky,

Which rushes then to gather notes:

Melodies, sometimes a sigh

The gurgling brooks add a metre of melt,

To the song of the peaks unseen,

The chorus comes from the velvety vales,

And the bugyals you’ve never been

The mountain freshness binds the song,

With the northern winds, it flies,

Until it comes to the lesser lands, 

To the city of shade and lies

And there it falls with a pitter of hope,

A patter of dusky rains,

There is sadness in its petrichor,

Yet, salvation for your pains

For it brings alive the mountain song, 

And the hillman inside you,

And gushes forth an alpenglow,

In red and orange hue

What does it say, that mystique song?

Does it open then the cage?

It reminds you of the journeys left - 

The unmade pilgrimage

There are meadows left to trod and climb,

Many a sunrise to long,

To be awed by the silvery ‘bode of the gods,

In seconds of eternal dawn

There are tarns that gaze like pots of ink,

For the hills, a mirror blue,

But more than just the shimmering peaks, 

You can see the real you

Wildflowers gushed with pastel paints,

The sun-filled winds that chime,

Yaks and tahrs for company 

Hurry, there is only that much time!

So much left in the mountain trail,

But when will you start again?

To be humbled by the grandeur peaks

To turn pensive, insane

Come back then to the hillside hearth,

Of alpine blooms and creeks,

To the grasses where you’ll find your peace

To the song of the unseen peaks…

30th August, 2020