Princess of a Thousand Valleys
With feelings of sadness growing within,
I dreamt that I climbed the highest mountain,
Beyond the flight of birds, to survey the
World and drink from the springs of rivers that
Nurture those who approach death. I wanted
To be close to heaven's Jade City, to
Bathe in restoring virtues, but in my
Dream the peaks were forever before me,
Each ascent showing more mountain-ranges
Divided by precipitous valleys.
Exhausted, I lay down to sleep and dreamt
Of angels riding brightly coloured clouds.
They showed me a woman’s head carved in rock
Which shone with unexpected splendour.
Her face, dour or cross, was pale; maybe she
Was ill, yet she looked sturdy and healthy.
The eyes, gazing from her white face, gave her
A primitive, unworldly, knowing look.
When her eyes, blue or green, stared with increased
Insight, her pupils dilated to black.
With craggy rock for hair and smiling lips,
Her force and vision pierced me. This sculpture,
This destination for holy pilgrims,
This rock, spoke to me in soothing tones.
I’m the princess of a thousand valleys,
I carved these hills, so when clouds heap the sky
And this mountain darkens, I keep my light.
With my will to carve, each rock is a life
Renewing sculpture. When troubles darkly
Swirl around your peaks, don’t lose your chisel,
Reconfigure, and sculpt your rocks anew.
When you doubt your strength and long for vision,
Remember me with your aching heart and
Know I am here, my face like spring’s surprise.
To some I am a mountain, but to you,
I am the place that inspires endless change.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
Princess of a Thousand Valleys
With feelings of sadness growing within,
I dreamt that I climbed the highest mountain,
Beyond the flight of birds, to survey the
World and drink from the springs of rivers that
Nurture those who approach death. I wanted
To be close to heaven's Jade City, to
Bathe in restoring virtues, but in my
Dream the peaks were forever before me,
Each ascent showing more mountain-ranges
Divided by precipitous valleys.
Exhausted, I lay down to sleep and dreamt
Of angels riding brightly coloured clouds.
They showed me a woman’s head carved in rock
Which shone with unexpected splendour.
Her face, dour or cross, was pale; maybe she
Was ill, yet she looked sturdy and healthy.
The eyes, gazing from her white face, gave her
A primitive, unworldly, knowing look.
When her eyes, blue or green, stared with increased
Insight, her pupils dilated to black.
With craggy rock for hair and smiling lips,
Her force and vision pierced me. This sculpture,
This destination for holy pilgrims,
This rock, spoke to me in soothing tones.
I’m the princess of a thousand valleys,
I carved these hills, so when clouds heap the sky
And this mountain darkens, I keep my light.
With my will to carve, each rock is a life
Renewing sculpture. When troubles darkly
Swirl around your peaks, don’t lose your chisel,
Reconfigure, and sculpt your rocks anew.
When you doubt your strength and long for vision,
Remember me with your aching heart and
Know I am here, my face like spring’s surprise.
To some I am a mountain, but to you,
I am the place that inspires endless change.
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