Say to this mountain, be lifted up and thrown into the sea. Not tossed about the waves like a ship with no sails, gasping for air under the currents. This mountain you call your home is wretched and torn. The windows are bolted yet the door is open. The flood is rushing across your valleys. The walls are closing under the pressure of a mighty force. This mountain, which refuses to sink, will be consumed by the light of the sun. All who can see will behold its destruction and its former stronghold. As it crumbles into the depths of the ocean, no remorse is given, no moments of silence. A back is turned to the sea, and we will walk away. Not one, but many prints in the sand.