Loch it Up

I feel like I'm in a clock
At steady pace equidistant roadside pillars mark time
Each one measuring a moment that i spend marvelling over pine
Fir, oak, rock and river side
Bumps, creases, folds and lines
If only I could keep on walking
For there are so many miles left to roam
The rain falls gently on this page
Yet I am locked in heavy gaze
Feast your eyes on this goes the phrase
But rather than indulging I prefer to graze
Slowly munching every metre and to raise
a glass to the view but only sipping
so as not to get too drunk on its magnificence
Not dazed by the glory and majesty of its vastness
Not phased by its vertigo
Like those giants tumbling from vertical
Oh so vertical and vertical and vertical and vertical and.....
So as to climb to see the tip unless, like those, have tipped buried in the snow or moss
Like if I could sit here long enough
My cheeks frozen to the rock
Legs tangled in the grass
Neck and head depart into the clouds
That steady pace of clock would stop
Every marked moment pop
And finally this illusion of time and space being seperate would drown
In the bottom of the loch