Valley of Dry Bones (or, On Hiking the Grand Canyon)

I am The Valley of dry bones
A vascular crevasse brittle and breaking
Brimming with grim stones heaving and shaking.
I forget to possess that which I own.

Creatures jostling on paw and wing
Through canyon crawling, walking and waking
The verdant valley desperately aching
For souls to arise and sing

See The Valley, plunging ‘neath cold creeks,
“Arise, brittle bones!” See teeming,
Along wall and path, resounding rocks gleaming
From golden sun, which loudly speaks:

“Behold O dry Valley,
that which has always been
And that which will always be.
Behold O dry valley,
that which has always been becoming new.
Breathe once again
From the depths of your soul.
Shake off the bone dry dust,
And breathe again.”

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