I Was A Mountain

I was a rock. I was a strong mountain holding up the world. I was immense, and strong willed and powerful. But the rain. The rain came and whittled me down to nothing but fine dust, finer than the softest touch. Then I became the breeze. I was the breeze blowing from North to East to South to West. I was strong, I was forceful, and my fury was like a thousand thousand hurricanes beating a drum. But the gale would eventually settle, and i became the sand. I would soak up the sun as the tide washed up against me, polishing me and making me smooth. I was as clear as glass, but as coarse as a cat's tongue. I lay on the shore staring at the sun when the oceans rose and took me away to be with the fish and the terrors of the deep. And I almost became a pearl, but the oysters didn't know my story and didn't want to. The story of how I had come from a mountain. And I would swim, up and down the currents, moving with the midnight blue depths of the ocean threatening to hide me from the light forever. But the sun remembered me and took me up to be close to the bosom of it's warming rays. And I was the cloud. I floated for an eternity that seemed to short as I kissed each ray of the sun as it came down from its celestial perch. I would greet it's radiant warmth with the embrace of a long lost friend reunited. And then I was the raindrop. I was racing faster than I ever had. Down, down, ever downwards. The world flew by me, curving along it's spiny horizon as Ispun. I was falling. Falling from unknown heights and crashing. Falling apart. Wet. But breathing new life and new possibilities into the world. And I was happy, because I kissed a mountain and told it my story.