Searching for truth only to stumble into meticulous madness. Standing stalwart atop shifting snow streaked stone, falling into the clouds, face first into the valley floor. Stop. Confronting the Grand Quest: Ion. Where? Lost in space. Shrouded chasms of information funneling the mind into endless frenzy. Steady the breath, composure comes amidst the mist. Acceptance. Look up east to the rocky wave, speckled with the hues of a rising sun. Radiant rays breach the peaks, piercing the fog with the dawn of a new day.
Climbing the cragged continental spine. Learning to again ascend the peaks out from frozen ether. Ragged breathing accompanies the journey up. Air thin and frozen, breached like ice. Careful steps against sheer stone. Hands sink into snow, getting to grip with the terrain. A steady stagger up the mountain. Monumentious, the ascension endless.
Sun and shadow, the horizon stark above. Inching closer to the edge, piercing the divide. Eastward wind washes shining stone, bathing in the light. Reaching the plateau, standing tall against the view. A valley below, peaks ahead, sunlit sky above.
Ion. Imbalance, Known, Unlike Its Quarks.
Standing Atop Mountains. Where Once I Have Fallen, I Rise.