Like a mysterious mystical island in the reddish pink sunset, Mt Ruapehu appears to float on the horizon with a deep blue cloud above it. The beach can be so stunning at this time of year and the vistas so distant and beautiful.
Is there no change of death in paradise?
Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,
Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,
With rivers like our own that seek for seas
They never find, the same receding shores
That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Why set the pear upon those river banks
Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our colors there,
The silken weavings of our afternoons,
And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!
Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,
Within whose burning bosom we devise
Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.
From Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955)
Best Viewed Large On Black - See where this picture was taken. [?]
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Mystical Mountain Beyond The Sea
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What amazing colours you've captured here Tom!
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