Tearing down a mountain,
A stone at a time.
He did it all for his ailing wife,
A deconstructed monument
To the testament of stubborn love.
I'd like to see his hands,
The hands that tore down a mountain,
Just so his love didn't have to walk around.
I'd like to see his feet
And the miles that they've climbed,
Covered in the dust of the mountain.
I'd like to see his dreams.
Does he remember the mountain
Before he laid it low?
Did he apologize to each stone as he toiled alone,
Did he carry them down like broken children
Or wept as he swept them over the dwindling precipice.
Because of love a colossus was irrevocably eroded.
So do you think he feels sad for sacrificing the mountain
Now that he's left himself with an empty horizon.
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