Of Faults and Seams

Of Faults and Seams

The immense mountain rose
In lofty grandeur, and in a long memorial,
Within the raw rock and grieving ice,
Came in a quiet tundra of Mozart’s Requiem,
Where the lunar light shined into the meadows,
And embellished the prehistoric Longs Peak.
Hidden in the snowstorms,
Reserved behind the unwavering timber,
And afloat in a turquoise lake,
A squall of force ripped and roiled.
It was there, that distant notes of a Dies Irae
Thundered and vibrated the footprints,
Which clung to the sides of the peak
In a desperate attempt of remembrance.
And alas, among the Sanctus,
Came the delight of the stone’s existence,
Which blared through the exhaust,
Rose in the unbroken wings of a hawk,
Awakening the lumbering titans of lore,
And it was beheld by the coyote,
In whose dusty paws he flung the stars.
The mountain withstood the tests,
And the sorrows.
Under the impact of the universe,
It did not wilt nor bend,
But continued to climb,
Out of the fire and the frost,
Towards the shallow ceiling of pale blue,
Humming in andante perfection,
As a sentry and a holder of wisdom.

Longs Peak Ansel Adams
Longs Peak. RMNP. Colorado. Image by Ansel Adams.

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