In the cradle of dawn’s gentle embrace,
Mountains rise like ancient kings.
Their peaks caress the sky with grace,
Whispering tales the wind softly sings.

Veils of mist dance in morning’s breath,
Cloaking the world in a mystic shroud.
Their presence defies both time and death,
Standing strong, silent, and proud.

Rivers carve their stories in stone,
Echoing the passage of years gone by.
In their shadows, a world unknown,
Awaits the gaze of the wanderer’s eye.

Guardians of secrets, keepers of dreams,
Mountains watch as stars ignite the night.
Silent and timeless, under moon’s beams,
Their majesty fills the heart with light.