Silent Mountain
Would recommend listening to this while reading.
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Everything is quite still in Silent Mountain, where towering cliffs of shimmering blue ice rise up around me. It’s difficult to see where they end. The light is pale and watery yet sharp as diamonds all at once. The diamonds cut streaks of light around the vast confines of the Mountain. They hit the frosted sides and make soulful keening noises that echo around for minutes before finally drifting off to some other part of the Mountain as if they’ve grown bored of their surroundings. Probably they will bounce around forever, still alive long after I’m dead and buried. I get the feeling that I am in an otherworldly place. Silent Mountain is silent despite the diamond voices, for the voices are part of the silence. The air seems fraught with vibrant anticipation, but I do not know what I’m waiting for. I feel small and yet as if I have found the one place I can truly be at peace in. There is a long deep chasm just in front of me, and a wooden snow frosted bridge connecting the gap. I place one foot in front of the other, then switch feet, and this is the way I advance across the bridge. I am not scared of falling. There is nothing to be scared of here in Silent Mountain. Silent Mountain is a venerable place, a sublime place. I revere Silent Mountain, and Silent Mountain reveres me. I put my hand on the ice, and tinkling fills my ear, cool and distant. Snow has begun to fall gently, dusting me in transient silver tears. And all around me, always, the great blue frozen walls loom and reach into the clouds. I step out of my body, insubstantial, and rise like I’m air, higher and higher until my body is just a dot and I can see the snow eddy into swirling whirling designs. And then, when even Silent Mountain is a dot to my eyes and there is nothing around me but white, white, white, I close my eyes and I fall.
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Everything is quite still in Silent Mountain, where towering cliffs of shimmering blue ice rise up around me. It’s difficult to see where they end. The light is pale and watery yet sharp as diamonds all at once. The diamonds cut streaks of light around the vast confines of the Mountain. They hit the frosted sides and make soulful keening noises that echo around for minutes before finally drifting off to some other part of the Mountain as if they’ve grown bored of their surroundings. Probably they will bounce around forever, still alive long after I’m dead and buried. I get the feeling that I am in an otherworldly place. Silent Mountain is silent despite the diamond voices, for the voices are part of the silence. The air seems fraught with vibrant anticipation, but I do not know what I’m waiting for. I feel small and yet as if I have found the one place I can truly be at peace in. There is a long deep chasm just in front of me, and a wooden snow frosted bridge connecting the gap. I place one foot in front of the other, then switch feet, and this is the way I advance across the bridge. I am not scared of falling. There is nothing to be scared of here in Silent Mountain. Silent Mountain is a venerable place, a sublime place. I revere Silent Mountain, and Silent Mountain reveres me. I put my hand on the ice, and tinkling fills my ear, cool and distant. Snow has begun to fall gently, dusting me in transient silver tears. And all around me, always, the great blue frozen walls loom and reach into the clouds. I step out of my body, insubstantial, and rise like I’m air, higher and higher until my body is just a dot and I can see the snow eddy into swirling whirling designs. And then, when even Silent Mountain is a dot to my eyes and there is nothing around me but white, white, white, I close my eyes and I fall.
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