The rift

I looked over the edge of the cliff
Below tufts of clouds hung suspended as if time has frozen
A few scrawny branches interrupt the seemingly smooth surface
They struggled against the hard rock and prevailed
They stood up in victory
Birds glide under the gentle wind, gracefully moving up and down
Indeed time stood still, indeed the magic is real
Below the plains gently rolled along
A few scattered trees, a herd of cattle, a hurrying stream
It seemed as if at one time the plain and the plateau were one
They struggled against each other, fought for freedom
One moved up, the victor
The other moved down, he hung his head in shame
His tears still flow
Time never healed this wound, the exposed rift lay barren
Except for the few branches who dared to hold on
Brothers mourn for each other silently within their hearts
One disguised it as a stream, the other masked his tears in the clouds