If the hills did have eyes, they would look upon you and say.
"Why are you here, right now, looking at me.
I am only a mountain. One of many.
Yet you seeked me out. You stared at me.
As though I were special.
As though I were unique."
"I only stare because I have to" you respond
"For to look at you is to make me understand my own fragility
Against your strength.
And your time.
And your immeasureable beauty.
For soon, like all who stood before me, I shall fall
And it is into the grace of all things, such as you
That I fall into.
I measure myself against you.
And for all time you have stood, and before you I shall fall."
"You speak as though small" it whispers back,
"You speak as if you were not a part of all of me.
Do you see that we are the same.
For I once was born, I now live and shall one day die."
"Yes, I know.
Though my sturdiness, my resolve and my world is fragile."
"As is mine."
And the hills then close their eyes. Dormant again as they silently sleep through a millennia that we can never comprehend.