Mount Mitchell

the valley was full of roiling clouds
and cloud pieces broke of assuming different shapes
one became a mist hawk arching over my head
and it was all so beautiful

the clouds were the purest white
and the sky
when I could see the sky
was azure

and as I grew into that sky
where I stood
the snow covered mountains were just flat
the whole world was flat compared to that sky
and the sky was so beautiful it hurt
it was all so magnificent that it was hurting me to look at it
and I knew that I would have to wake up soon
or be lost in that sky

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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