This is how the earth moves, slowly and deliberately. It accomplishes great things over even greater lengths of time and to those who have patience, it offers nothing less than itself as a reward.
The wind on Mt. Everest is wild and free. It comes and goes as it pleases, blowing up to 175 miles per hour at its own behest, picking up as it desires and dying down when it has grown bored. It dances with the snow like a swirling cloud; it kisses the summit hard like a lover. It is the constant companion of the lonely mountain, urging it ever forward, ever higher into the realm of the sky.
This is how the air moves, capricious and volatile. It accomplishes what it can in very little time, and to those who enjoy the unpredictable, it offers nothing less than itself as a reward.
I have a proverbial Everest, a lofty peak to climb where these two opposing elements dance harmoniously in solitude, cold and set apart from the rest of the world where the only warmth is in the joy they must feel when night falls and together they reach for the moon.