Only This and More

 I have been thinking of this beautiful poem all week. I woke this morning thinking of this photograph that I believe was taken from our campsite on the western side of the summit of Sonora Pass.Tyler is not sure of the location.  I do know it was taken on the day before we drove home because the eye phone keeps track of dates. If you look to the right just below the peak, you will see a patch of snow.  If you look lower and to the left, you can see falling water, more than likely runoff from the snow. This is not a gentle, rolling hills sort of land.

I find our journey across the Sonora Pass is staying with me. We take for granted being able to pass through the mountains (Although if you lived there you might not.)  This morning, I feel like we should have asked their permission before traversing. I still feel their presence, and I am humbled.     

  

This Only

A valley and above it forests in autumn colors.
A voyager arrives, a map led him here.
Or perhaps memory. Once, long ago, in the sun,
When the first snow fell, riding this way
He felt joy, strong, without reason,
Joy of the eyes. Everything was the rhythm
Of shifting trees, of a bird in flight,
Of a train on the viaduct, a feast of motion.
He returns years later, has no demands.
He wants only one, most precious thing:
To see, purely and simply, without name,
Without expectations, fears, or hopes,
At the edge where there is no I or not-I.

~ Czesław Milosz   

From Wikipedia:  Czesław Miłosz was a Polish-American poet, prose writer, translator, anddiplomat. He primarily wrote his poetry in Polish. Regarded as one of the great poets of the 20th century, he won the 1980 Nobel Prize in Literature.