The dreams of mountains are the dreams where we are full of awe, where we grasp the beauty & immensity of our ambitions & aspirations. They are the dreams that wake us in the night & tell us to go out, be in the world, create something beautiful, and make it extraordinary.

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This is a journal of beautiful things. This is a journal of inspiration. This is a journal of art, words, creativity, and passion. Thank you for visiting. LEARN MORE.

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(photo by dreamsofmountains.com)

 

Taos 
Jillena Rose

Bones are easier to find than flowers
in the desert, so I paint these:
Fine white skulls of cows and horses.

When I lie flat under the stars

in the back of the car, coyotes howling
in the scrub pines, easy to feel how those bones
are so much like mine: Here is my pelvis,
like the pelvis I found today
bleached by the sun and the sand. Same
hole where the hip would go, same

white curve of bone beneath my flesh

same cradle of life, silent and still in me.
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Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

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