Tija

Tija, mountain of ages,
Shrugs its shoulders about
The sky and presages
Discord and engages
Terror and outrages
Both within and without,
The minds of all sages.

In piercing moon and sun shine,
Through night and darkest day,
The shadows intertwine
Along the sharp decline
To smother and confine
And instill disarray,
Through every ill design.

Gloom, it flows like a disease,
Collected and refined,
With deadly expertise
And offhand treacheries
That bend the brow and knees
And leave the heart consigned,
To wither by degrees.

It's a sight to contemplate
From leagues of hope away,
Else misery await
That may never abate,
But shall incinerate
The profound interplay,
Of dreams and deadly fate.