I sound like corn, but in truth, you’re gonna need a map to get out of me.

It is, arguably, the most expressive mountain in the world

cross the narrow area I reside but the question is which am I

I sink, yet people build with me. I’m known for the coast, but also for arid land. I’m measureless, but people use me to measure time.

I creep without legs, slow but sure, A frozen river, ancient and pure. I carve valleys without hands, leave scars in stone, Carry giants where they’re never known. I whisper in creaks, I roar in collapse, Time rides my back in icy maps.