The mood soars; the energy heightens. Suddenly I am the very soul of the mountain.
A vast, round rump.
Blue sky, warm sun, grassy hillsides. Your hand, brushing against my skin, feels like the breeze that keeps the bluebells bobbing. It tickles, as though you were kicking a pebble along as you walk.
You are a traveler. Without the traveler, would the mountain even exist?
Come then, tread my pathways. Seek the sunlight.
Climb up, all the way up to the summit. Climb up, touch me, and see my soul.