The Bronze of Emei

I saw the sun ride the clouds this morning over Emei.
It rose from haze and darkness, past green trees
Of softness, past temples, gleaming their gold display,
Of radiant light above the lazy, hazy green mountain seas.

There, on top, was the temple. Bronze-born would soon be
The central profile of the peak. On such a golden sight
One focuses now the clearing haze. Beyond such beauty can eyes see
Far off ranges rise to mark a face turned toward the light?

Or, having seen the beauty of the bronze, does it
Force us motionless in awesome vision before
We know the haze of clouds removes our visual limit,
And swing our eyes in time to see the face of beauty to restore

Those far-off peaks? The sea of clouds? The other views?
Views, that each of us has climbed to see and muse?