With mountains like these

By Sollergirl

For George

THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, death and the stars. 

Walt Whitman

George I will miss you very much. Thanks for the poetry, laughs and godlessness. 

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