On a High Hill

Let there be no bars between me and the sky on a night of stars. I will go out and lie on whatever hill is lonely, clear, and high and watch the heavens fill with jeweled or ghostly light worlds that have gone out, visions passed from sight. I will draw about me winds that drift and whirl out of the galaxy or, like a veil of pearl, float from tree to tree. I will be large and small, far away and near, nothing, something, all, looking up from here.... Part of the tempest-tossed air and sky and ground. I will be somewhat lost. I will be almost found.

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