Friday night in I was musing with some friends about the desert and being outdoors. Yesterday I stumbled upon this poem. In some small way it describes how I feel in the vastness of the west - where the sky and mountains stretch me and define me. I hope you like it to:
…
Did you ever stand on the ledges,
On the brink of the great plateau,
And look from the jagged edges
On the country that lay below?
When your vision met no resistance
And nothing to stop your gaze,
Til the mountain peaks in the distance
Stood wrapped in a purple haze.
…
There-the things that you considered strongest
And the things that you thought were great,
And for which you had striven longest,
Seemed to carry but little weight.
…
While you’re gazing on such a vision,
And your outlook is clear and wide,
If you have to make a decision,
That’s the time and place to decide.
Although you return to the city
And mingle again with the throng;
Though you should be softened by pity,
Or bitter from strife and wrong.
Though others should laugh in derision,
And the voice of the past grow dim;
Yet, stick to the cool decision
That you made on the mountain’s rim.
-Bruce Kiskaddon
1 comment:
There's a little bit of high desert between Vegas and Utah, where with just a little imagination, you can look across the broad expanse, and erase in your mind, the telephone poles and highways and billboards, and imagine what it must have been like astride a horse, with no promise of watering hole or friendly inn at the end and daring the desert not to kill you...-alacrityfitz
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