My soul soars past mountain peaks, 
finding new latitudes to chart, 
yet symbiosis I refuse to seek. 
           
Polluted petals drift down drained creeks 
and crows caw to my lacking heart, 
but my soul soars past mountain peaks. 
 
Oak leaves fly wildly across my cheek, 
willing we shall never part, 
yet symbiosis I refuse to seek. 
 
Startled by some owl’s haunting shriek 
— a  hermit’s wisdom he imparts — 
my soul persists past mountain peaks. 
 
Even the mourning dove so meek 
receives guidance in Gaia’s verdant art, 
yet symbiosis I refuse to seek. 
 
For comfort’s sake, poison my house leaks 
to admire through frames the vale’s start. 
My soul soars past mountain peaks, 
yet symbiosis I refuse to seek.