Dreaming of the Mountains

I see a place with mountains higher than any cloud,

a place where silver rain falls like a widow's tears.

My feet will hit the ground like singing thunder

through a radiant curtain of opaque shroud,

and dew will tumble and kiss away my fears.

Happiness will come with the violet wonders,

and the limbs of the trees, with them, will be bowed.

This is the happy corner where dreams dwell,

like the one I threw down that shining wishing well.

 

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