…a poem

 

Elevated Existentialism

 

I

do not

know what

a mountain is.

 

Magnificent as it is,

I cannot understand

its ultimate humiliation in

a still stoic contentment from

which it had risen, the world’s end.

 

It’s a humble ceremony of presentation

every time that I come upon an open valley

with mountainous waves in wake of dominance.

 

The bewilderment of bare earth, untouched and unrestricted,

overwhelms me with a ceaseless paralyzed amazement that beckons

such an insignificant question that I will never be able to resolve unbounded

as the

mountain.

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