Crumbling mountains

As the past ravages,
through the misty mountains,
crumbling it under the weight,
of uncontainable memories,
crippling the rock solid boulders,
into a scattered desert,

where only a mad soul wanders,
looking for the mountains,
that once were.
mourning the beauty that was in the past,
cursing the desert, with his hands and old limbs.

 

I like it, despite the futility it inspires.

 

Powerful feeling to this poem...

vast stretches of lone/expansiveness;
archaic misunderstandings ~~*