She is a canyon.

There is majestic depth and cavernous mystery in her earth

The wind provides a circumambient concerto of relentless notes with

intentional force, shielding her from being permeated by continuous debris

Were the wind to cease, the debris of questions with no answers, too hard, too fearsome

would line her walls and ridges, undulating over her soft earth, in its great depth.

The wind persists, with all the might allocated to it, to forbid a breach

But every so often it fatigues, allowing the debris a chance to float in and down, to the crevasses

And lie among other unanswered questions and deepest doubts.

And she groans under the pressure

and growls, at the failure of the wind.

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