The geography of God

Thousands of tiny needles pierced my skin. I breathed out and pushed up, emerging from the water. A few seconds in the mercilessly cold water had brought me back to life. Shivering, I walked onto land, looked around and lost my breath again.
The lake spread out in front of me, eternal and pure. Tall grey mountains seemed to guard the water's peace. In the few seconds that I spent on the beach, the water returned to the geometric purity of its plain, clouds reflected in its perfection. This is not how I'd imagined swimming in the clouds.
I raised my eyes to the sky, tearing my gaze from the sky before me. The clouds slid across with improbable speed, changing their shape minute by minute. It seemed I could reach them with my hands and mold them into anything I wished - into dragons, castles, or monsters of all shapes and sizes. Is this not a long-forgotten childhood dream come true?
Nothing shared my enthusiasm. The lake and the mountains stood on in icy mysterious silence. The clouds slid past. Nor did the wind begin to breathe more gently.
Lightning slashed the sky in half as night dropped on our camp. Thunder smashed into the rocks much too close to my tent. Fear and exhaustion wrestled all night, sending shivers down my spine, bringing dreams of bellicose gods.
The morning surprised us with snow. Whiteness covered the rocks, the ground, and the trees. A thick layer of weightless beauty lay where only a few hours ago, edelweisses sprouted.
Yet although everything changed, nothing suggested any concern for us. The silence continued to be deaf to the wind's imploring whistles. There are no worries here without me.
After a quick breakfast, we packed and left. We went over the mountain pass down, towards civilization, away from the cold distracted nature that lives by its own rules, too great to be concerned with us. Goodbye, 3814 meters above sea level!