Living in a valley has it's up and downs,

The mountains are a sight to see,

But the air is think and brown.

Every sound the city makes will echo peak to peak,

It's volume alone is loud enough,

To make a strong man weak.

Some days I have to leave and go up in the mountains,

To breathe fresh air, and think alone,

A place of no more doubting. 

When I think in this place one thought comes to mind,

Life is big and messy,

What purpose must I fund?

My purpose of life is simple and easy,

To surround myself with all the things,

That I find Beatiful and Pleasing.