From a high sandstone ridge at sunrise I saw the ramparts of Bryce Canyon many years ago. Its colors captivated an early morning sunrise. It was like seeing the dawn of creation. A high desert canyon graced by the light of GOD, its dolimites cast their shadows and marched along the canyons depths as the sun infused the canyon with its glory on this morning..... So here are the lines of Bryce Canyon, Utah From this ledge high above thee I scan your eroded lands; They reach as far as I can see You are painted with faded sands. The wondering hand of God has played Upon you a joking but awesome trick; With this image you have stayed True to your creation and nature’s flick. Sandstone spires grace your ragged walls As mountains of sand grace your slopes; Nary a mortal castle could equal your halls Nor could any prayer voice your silent hopes. With such a closeness to God and his power How could a mere human ask for more? Gazing upwards from the base of your tower It’s like an endless sea and a sandy shore. Evergreens dot your lower leagues With their roots seeking purchase; Existing at all, in me it intrigues As with death comes life an endless chase. You are a land twisted and torn A country haphazardly cast on end; Your weathered ranks, ragged and worn Who knows not foe or friend. With spindly arms reaching for the sky Just as they were many eons ago; How lucky could a person be says I To witness such a sight before they go. As I set here in the hours of this sun-set I am drawn to your mystic soul; My body lacking the power to move, I bet I am gazing upon creation as the age’s roll. I am sure as the floodwaters did recede It was here that you were born; Only God Almighty could have planted this seed For you to grow in this empty land forlorn. As the cloud shadows race across your brow In these mortal eyes grows a tear; In reverence, I must show somehow That in his great power, this man does fear. Slowly I rise and silently back away Disturbing not the slightest grain of sand; The rising of a desert moon is not far away Marking the end of another day of mortal man. But canyon, to this old man you’ll always be A picture of poems and prayers and a promise; A place where nature’s soul was set free Etching your lines on the heart of an old man named Bryce.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Apr 2014 01:37:15 +0000
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