The Mountains

Climbing the mountain, breathless, pure,
Wings of eagles grace the heights—
A thrill surges as the sky meets the floor
Of eternal peaks, adventurous flights.

O, Heart of stones, vast and sublime,
You rise to the heavens with unmoving grace;
Each rock, each crevice, knows change over time,
Yet holds its secrets, its ancient embrace.

Nature’s cathedral, standing so proud,
In the stillness, find life’s chaotic blend;
From air to earth, where shadows are loud,
In the mountains, we find that we can mend.

— John Muir

• John Muir