She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Magic of This Place

Trapped between the ageless innumerable stars
And the roots of mountains so ancient
Only the bedrock remembers a time
When this was the roof
Of the world

Time counted not in years but in eons
Imbues this place with an aura of mystery
And of frank, matter of fact starkness

The stones speak of those ancient terrible pinnacles
Of the aftermath of their making and of their demise
At one point a warm shallow sea
And then mountains again

Twelve thousand years ago
This place was covered with ice
Two miles deep
And the stones remember it all
The mountains roots, deep domes of granite
Now form the steep hills and ridges
That press this place firmly against the sky

At night the stars shine out brilliantly
And knowingly
As if they shared a secret
With the hills, the stones and the forest
Which indeed they do

From the stars
To the stones
Where mighty forest trees slowly grow
Drawing with imperceptible measure
The wisdom of heaven and earth
To be displayed in subtle splendor
For all to witness and understand

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