The Poem That Took the Place of a Mountain

This greatness was the mountain, one could feel it breathing, But the sigh came forth and granted serenity, What did lie beneath the trails of your footfalls, Unto the firm trees, stood from advancements; For what is that but the place arising spirit— Thought on the mountain comes to be Vast and vivid, yet unblemished: And here the green was great, the minds of men Must open wide, for behold the soft aspirations; The path to cause a heart’s flow made us weak, Yet believe, faith is the grace that moves us still.

The voices that shape all thought shall tell Of time, of light, of those movement’s attained—
And from those learned shapes are transformed; Extend your arms, cozily and lean against the woven light; Every soft feeling finds a softness too, For thought is only the river meeting The stone’s own weight, and the soul trembles beneath, In its own seeking light and shuns the art of man, While yet the rock vibrates on this mountain and breathes, But seeks suit are we—climb into thought and grow with grace.

Nothing matters in the balance; just breathe, Beneath whatever clouds stir the horizon, As limbs stretch and speak in the air. Noble and natural grace. Let It be.

• Wallace Stevens