The Sparrow and the Mountain

Once, a tiny sparrow lived in a quiet valley. She sang the most beautiful songs, full of questions, wonder, and fire. Near the valley stood a tall mountain strong, silent, and always watching the sky.

The mountain loved the sparrow's songs. He never said it, but her voice filled the emptiness of his stone heart. The sparrow, too, felt safe near the mountain—he was always there, steady when storms came.

But one day, a storm of words came ,not from the sky, but from their hearts.

You think you're high above me,the sparrow cried, like I’m just a little bird you feel sorry for.

The mountain trembled. No, he wanted to say, "I just want you to know you're never alone."  

But mountains are not good with words. So the sparrow flew away. And she stopped singing.

The valley fell silent.

Seasons passed. The mountain missed her songs. He waited, listening to the wind.

So he carved a story on his stone face ,for her, only her.  

It was about a sparrow who sang so brightly, even a mountain learned how to feel.  

He didn't say her name. But he hoped she would read it.

He hoped she’d know:  

Not all who stand tall, look down