In the quiet dawn, where shadows dance,
The mountains stand in timeless trance.
Whispers of the ancient stones,
Echo through the morning tones.
Snow-capped heights that touch the sky,
Guardians of the ages gone by.
Silent keepers of secrets deep,
In their embrace, the valleys sleep.
The wind, a minstrel, sings their praise,
Through rocky cliffs and hidden ways.
Each gust a tale of strength and grace,
Carved in nature’s sacred space.
As daylight fades to twilight’s hue,
The mountains bathe in a golden view.
Eternal sentinels, bold and free,
Holding the earth in serenity.