Written on the Mountain Highway

What the things are
And what the things are not
They make a hell lot of differences.

me with my friends;

It was the smell of heaven
not the smoke from a crematory
we had felt when we touched the sky
on our ride on the misty mountain roads

It was the green of the wild
not some filthy scarlet of the dead bodies
in the happy and contented landscape we saw
it made our heart hopped around crests and troughs

It was a great delight
the gorge that took our heart down from such a height
and not some futile, fearful stories on the front page
of newspapers and their stories of rapes and murders

life can be so simple;

If only the things are what they are
but they are not;
This makes all the difference.