Clouds of fog engulf the cragged edges of the mountains, billowing and rolling like massive gray monsters. They flow up and finally settle down, resting between the tender green limbs of deciduous forests.

You resemble my soul. My heart. My mind. Unsettling, yet comforting. Unstable, yet steady. You are ever-changing yet constant. 

In the early hours of the morning, as dawn shows her vibrant face between the mountain peaks, she laughs. Mocking the mist that will dissipate. It will bow and surrender to her red strength. Her pink and fire yellows. She rules the skies until the moon settles in, hanging just above the sharp points of the looming giants. 

I settle in for the night, my heart beating with the same rhythm of the ground as it pulses with life. A chill lies its icy fingers down around the rocks and trees, frosting tips and teasing the foliage. It taunts in its temporary existence, clinging to its exposed prey. But, when warmth shows her tender side, it dissipates and surrenders into an innocent dew. 

My wretched soul twists and cracks, exposing deep crevasses that fill with angry water. It rages and plummets down the steep slopes, falling over itself clumsily. It follows no path, but rather creates its own, answering to no one and surrendering to nothing in its path. 

If you dare scale the treacherous mountain faces that show no mercy to their trespassers, beware. You will find that you have lost your way in the endless and solitary maze, and you will slowly become one with the furious damp winds and impassioned waterfalls. They’ll infiltrate your mind and imitate your soul. The foggy cliffs and raging streams will begin to resemble those pieces of you that you try to keep hidden. It will be a dangerous comfort, and in the end, if you let it, will even confiscate your entire being.