There is no triumph in the mountain summit.
That victory lays trembling
behind the instinct that took me there;
compelled to reach the passion of accomplishment:

the instinct took me there.

I saw that place and found myself
weary, but without sorrow.
No moments set aside for pain just yet;
time would come to experience this.

I seized the moment of arrival,
satisfied with all there was.
My path travelled on the wheels of life
Was not the recompense I sought.

Learning to sing the praises,
live the dreams,
feel the passion
that oceans and mountains can sustain.

I want to travel there again,
to race towards untimely suffering
endured thus in pleasure.

Endured by the instinct that took me there.

I climbed and found the hill my mentor,
teaching me to play with life.
Allowing me not to give in to the
competing instinct
that would have had me
avoid the dream,
stay in the room,
and sleep a comforting,
hollow
rest.

But in challenging the mountain I have learned
things I never thought alone I’d face.
The mountain was not challenged, it was I.
I’ve been brought to a new realization,
that I’ve done it now–
I’ve found my place.