The pebble is lost. The mountain remains. You spun me the shade in a glade where the promises fade, A silver snake slithering, silent, unseen in the blade. The wind wore your face in a place where I offered my grace, But treason took root, stealing truth, leaving only a trace. You gave me the frost, so I fashioned a fire from the pain, You brought down the drought, so I swallowed the clouds and the rain. Sorrow surrendered, it packed up and parted my door. The tear and the fear disappear, I am crying no more. A giant you seemed, but you gleam like a fragile glass bead, A pebble of pride that I push to the side like a weed. Don’t surrender the spark to the dark, let it mark the new day! I stand on this land with my hand holding shadows at bay. The mountain does not bow to the breeze of a whispering lie, I rise to the skies, cutting ties, looking straight in your eye. I will not break. I will not bend. This is my rising, and this is your end. The lies in your eyes were a prize I refuse to defend, A wicked, wild web that you wove but you could not amend. You plotted the fall, built a wall, thought I’d crawl in the dirt, But grief is a garden, and glory grows out of the hurt. I am the ocean, and you are a drop in the foam, A trespassing thief who forgot he was never the home. Fear was a phantom, but courage is flesh and is bone. You aimed for the queen, but you shattered your teeth on the throne. Don’t surrender the spark to the dark, let it mark the new day! I stand on this land with my hand holding shadows at bay. The mountain does not bow to the breeze of a whispering lie, I rise to the skies, cutting ties, looking straight in your eye. I do not surrender. The pebble is lost. The mountain... remains.
