Mountains

Oh mountains way high up...
This valley seems impossible.
Yet I have scene this all before,
And low was there to crush me again.
From such great heights, isn't it obvious?
As if you could take the moon away from the stars
And hand out freckles to the son.
Call them "angel kisses."
So little seem I in the fear...
God knows!
He knows!
The one you made your god, he knows!
And this fear that you are somehow the lost soul?
The one lost soul in the sea of souls?
How odd it would be you again?
How predictable have you become in this insane circle?
No where to hide but in plain sight.
Such frustration in screaming in tears and no one to hear.
The circle goes on.
And I may or may not get better.
And shatter the mirror...it's no matter...that looking glass sees you!
Insanity is in the communication.
The misunderstood.
The babbling brook, under the sea.
Swept away.
Carried away again.
And opinions don't matter...
I am afraid of the patterns.
If only I could be of service in some way...
Then insanity would not just make me cry.