Utah Poem
By Smoky Hoss
Still, it’s Utah.
Spirit of awe,
and mystical magic.
The soul of this land,
very much alive and thriving.
Like walking naked
into a fresh and flowing mountain river,
one cannot but feel surrounded
and wonderfully overcome by the aura
of waves and ripples of spiritual caress.
It is totally unavoidable.
Surely this is a holy place.
This place, Utah,
that looks like the beginning and the end
of the earth,
gathered together in one moment,
one location, bears a striking resemblance
to the far off dreamy visions
I’ve oft had in late night thoughts
of what a Paradise may, someday,
appear to be.
Raw, rare, and real.
Bright, beautiful and brilliant.
Deep and high.
Forever long and eternally wide.
Every color of earth and sky,
so perfectly blended and
flowing in unision that there can be no doubt,
as to a bold design in the works.
There is a certain harshness to all this wonder,
but not one bit of bad.
It is all good, grand even,
demanding to be noticed, and respected,
with appropriate awe.
A Beauty too much for
mere humanity to completely take in,
or fully acknowledge.
It is entirely ineffable.
It is Utah.
