The Infinite

After Leopardi

I¶ve always loved this hermit hill and this green tangle obscuring my view of so much of the farthest horizon. When I sit and absorb the vast spaces beyond me, the inhuman silences, the profound calm I pretend I imagine it all and my heart¶s almost brave. Like wind rustling through trees I¶m the voice inside this infinite silence recollecting the eternal and the dead seasons and the present and the living and their sounds until thought is drowned by immensity and I¶m happy to shipwreck in that sea.

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