People gather in collective silence
in a state of stupefaction
to gaze at this waterfall,
its ferocious energy somehow soothing,
its spray a vast wispy cloud so opaque
we sense its movement through the mist,
the fog in our head lifted
as we simply be,
awed and unencumbered.
Mossy rocks emerge and surround the canyon
as the breeze of Dettifoss
flips the page of my weathered notebook,
but I don’t want to leave just yet.
I’ve found a place
where the impatient cherish the wait,
where the cynical can’t help but widen their eyes,
where everything is washed away
from the Earth
straight to our soul.
There is nothing that can stop
the ticking clock
of our lives
more than the feeling of sheer awe
where we relish beauty
in profound incredulity
and feel dwarfed by nature’s immeasurable power.