Farewell to the mountains
The purity and inspiration
of the greatness of your beauty
clad in ice of coldest whiteness
almost outshining the sky in brightness
fills me with dismay at our divorce,
as I must down again
to baseness from the hills,
to the mundane vulgarity
of the stress-stricken common crowd,
who never climbed the icicles of beauty,
beyond reach for any common realism,
the inscrutability of beauty being always out of reach
except for those who keep their distance,
understanding it and worshipping it in respectful awe.
There is no better incarnation of true beauty
than the holy mountain out of reach for any mortal,
while alone the probing universal mind
can satisfy itself by finding his way into it
by metaphysically loving and adoring it.
There is no higher freedom than the highest
and no higher inspiration than the loftiest,
up-liftingness is all there is for the soul's nourishment,
and mountains know the way and show it
by the majesty of the serenity of their white armour
of the hardest coldest purest ice-clad beauty
never to be violated, and enthroned forever.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2008-11-26 at 13:26
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