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.