I wonder...

Whatever happens, when mountains do sigh?
When the sky sheds a tear for his own loneliness?
When the desert waits for the next caravan?
When the sea and Her creatures see no ships?
When an endless meadow, pure from man, mourns?

Wonder if anyone climbs up them anymore?
Wonder if all the swallows are sleeping?
Or maybe the cadavers are patiently waiting?
Wonder if they all breathe more at ease in the calm of their solitude?
Wonder if it shall ever meet the presence of someone?

So close, yet so far...
So big, yet so small...
So vast, yet so steep...
So calm, yet so inpatient...
So empty, yet so full...

But in the end, they are side by side, always, never in need of anyone.
In the end, the clouds are always there, with thunder and lightning.
And when night arrives, the sands fill with small souls.
Because in the end they always had one another.
And the meadow bled, but filled with scarlet red poppies.

Loneliness, beauty and joy are in the eyes and mind of the beholder.