Yonder mountains uplift my eyes;
verdant peaks piercing azure skies.
My spirit lifts, with eagles soar,
on currents carried while winds do roar.
Of fire and rock, cataclysmic birth;
Primal power shaped the earth.
Forcing high the ancient stone;
like serpent's spine are these terran bones.
I quiet ruminate before the giant rise.
Their beauty berefts me of earthly ties.
My vision drinks and thirsts for more;
from harrowing heights to valley floor.
What lies ahead fills my heart with mirth,
For in these days, such beauty: dearth.
Ever in my soul are these visions sown,
steadfast companions as any's known.
I'll carry them with me until my body dies.
At which I beg that no one cries.
For when my soul is from body tore,
I'll live forever in this moment yore.
The first draft of this poem was written as I sat at a scenic vista in the White Mountains 3 years ago, it was 6 months ago I found that notebook and began plucking away at that draft here and there to refine it and convey my thoughts and feelings at the time.
Works that stir the soul
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