A Mountain Stream of Consciousness

 

 

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One never knows, if one never goes. But oh, the storm it rages . Yet up ahead, or so I’ve read, lie those unwritten pages.

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Because you can, because you should, because it’s there, you go. Because you are, because you live, because you dare, you know. Because you’re free, because you see, because you care, you grow.

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Then all around, was not a sound, not a being spoke. The land was clean, the sky was blue, my back was tired and broke.

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This place will do, I’ll lay my head, upon my shoes tonight. I’m tired dead, eyes bleary red, but oh, what a sight.

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What dreams I saw, I thought, said I, what dreams I’ll have this eve. What morning brings, what do I know, what might my mind conceive?

 

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In the morning when I woke, I thought myself asleep. Deep in dreams I lay. Swayed by slumber deep. Asleep I woke to thoughts of morning, dreaming all the way.

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Then up again the mountain slopes, yes up again was I. Far as eye could see. Empty clarity. Divine superfluity of charitable beauty from up on high to me.

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But when the weather turned the worse, I bid a quick retreat. Feet chasing feet. Fast as I could go, to flee the ice and snow.

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Back within that other world, I sat upon the brink. I thought the kind of thoughts I think, drank the kinds of drinks I drink, winked the kinds of winks I wink, as mountain scenes unfurled…

But never ever far away, no never far behind, lay daydreams of that mountain day, etched with indelible ink, upon the rifts and gulfs and peaks, of my mountain mind.

 

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