Go, and Be.
In a word, she is empty; untouched with inescapable beauty. She is pure, free from advertisement and the need of distraction. Within the slips of her land there are fallen rocks still asleep where they originally made their bed. Her livestock craw without concern of time or where to go. They call the ground home without need for a door; no lock or key. Waterfalls find their way wherever needed: down the sides of the mountain's green and across the dirt paths carved by wandering admirers. This ground, this home, smells so rich. The soil doesn't stick or crumble. It molds to the hand as the hand becomes one with the land. For she is kind. She is genuine.
We pilgrims come here to pay our respects. And she repays us with peace. Once here, you are home. You find silence, a glimpse of heaven; a place where you can go, and be.