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My heart is a mountain.

Majestic against the summer sky,
Roots running deep–beyond the barren clutch of Winter, drawing up water even in a desert land.

As old as time, reaching back to the beginning,
Possessing the youth and candor of a child.
Fairy tales dwell in its depths,
Wisdom in its bones.

Unshakeable, it rises from its great foundation:
Laid up with the utterance of each word spoken to its soul.
Wrought of language–word and witness–
As numerous as grains of sand,
Bound together in truth.

No man can unmake this foundation.
No weapon against it can prevail.

My heart is a mountain–strong, and still.

Piercing the heavens in its height,
A watchman, shaken free from slumber, lifting its head from a pillow of clouds.
Dressed in armory of golden light,
Draped in a robe as pure as snow,
Decorated by a sparkling garment of stars.

Standing, always, in vigilance,
Unwavering in peace.

There is a tenderness in its curving blade,
Breathtaking to behold.
A softness in its fortitude:
This is sacred, holy land.

My heart is a mountain–whose face is cut by wind.

Shorn of sharp edges,
Refined and polished,
The breath of the Spirit rushing down its slopes;
Leaping and bounding down the plateaus and planes,
Leaving each side radiant beneath the gleaming sun.

There is a wildness in its gaze,
A song in its embrace:
The proclamation of a beauty untouched by the eyes of man.

There is abundance here, and grace.

My heart is a mountain–gates laden heavy with the Glory of the King.

Canyons full to brimming with joy and mercy, providence bursting from the ravines.

Hidden in the deepest valley, knelt low beneath its brow,
Grief and sorrow fall like rain.
Yet within those shadows there is healing:
A whispering of wings.

The echo of a million heart beats,
The drumming of a thousand breaths,
The rhythm of unspoken dreams:
Roaring through the caverns,
A pulse in its veins,
Carving out a way.

Here grows a garden, full of life.

My heart is a mountain–a promised land:

Filled with the ache of calling.
Climbing, ever-higher,
Stretching limbs, ever-taller,
Austere in bearing, humble in deed.
Fierce and jealous,
This heart of mine.
A mountain of freedom, an altar of remembrance.
In strength, it rises,
Unassailably, immutably, changed.

With every beat made more holy,
With every hope, more lovely.
Reaching into eternity–
The length of its life knows no end.
At its helm, a fountain of blessing,
In its voice, a multitude of praise.

There is salvation in this place:
My heart, a mountain.

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