In the heart of the ancient mountains,
Where whispers of the wind reside,
Stones crumble in silent patience,
As nature’s forces gently collide.

Raindrops carve their winding paths,
On surfaces once bold and strong,
Time’s fingers trace the aftermath,
Of life’s ever-persistent song.

The might of the storm and the sun’s embrace,
Weave tales of transformation anew,
Each crack and crevice, a story in place,
Of life’s relentless, gentle coup.

From towering peaks to valleys low,
The earth’s grand saga unfolds,
Weathering whispers secrets slow,
In every grain of sand it holds.