Suspend your disbelief I started hiking I don’t know why. A while later, I saw the summit Very near in the distance. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “I’ve already reached the top Of planet Earth.” Though as I climbed nearer to that summit, I saw That it was false. I paused to celebrate anyway Beside an old cedar. The sun was at midday. I decided I would keep climbing. Sooner than I expected, I saw the blue skyline Unobscured by trees. But as I reached What had seemed like What I was reaching for, I again saw More mountain. And I saw, from that point, Just how much, Much, much more mountain Was ahead before the next Apparent summit. I looked down. I’d already come so far. I looked up It was very, very far up. At what appeared to be an insurmountable iridescent ice rock. The true summit? “I won’t be so disappointed next time By another false summit.” Though the sun was nearing the west horizon, And the sky was turning pink, purple, blue, Darker blue, deeper, and darker, I continued Up toward the alpine glow On the ice rock, Imagining Seating atop The highest point of the Ocean of mountains. Achieving True Summit Would give me Reason For how far I’ve come. Just keep going, step by step, Just keep going right then left. The grey rocks under me were piled like a wall. This was not the forested hike I had started on. I slid. Rock atop sand. Sun below the horizon. “Nothing I can do.” I looked up. It was just as safe as the other directions Appeared in the dwindling twilight. And that ice-rock was just ahead. What was that? And so I continued, Two steps forward, one slide back, “Is that the same ice rock? Who glowing white by daylight, Darkens to a blackness by night?” It frightened me. I looked away. Bats chirped and clicked. “Is it a cave?” And so I went towards it. “Though dark, I may have found shelter.” I stood on two feet At the mouth of the cave, Singing into its blackness To evaluate its depth: “Oh cave, how deep? How deep do you go? Will you sing back to me, to let me know?” Not deep at all. Did I hear a man sigh? My own shallow echo. I cuddled myself On the guano bottom Of the frigid rock hollow. The dawn finally turned Sky black to deep blue. “Day enough for me, I’m getting out of here.” I looked up, one last time. Indigo skyline. I was weary, though, from the long cold night. Wary, of having to climb much more, Much, much more. And so I slid down. On the rocks on the sand. Through the thorny brush. Until the sun reached mid-day, When I found my two feet Hiking through forest, And I laughed. There it was. The large old cedar. There I was, Bloodied, shredded, sandy. “I had thought this was the summit, So early in my hike yesterday. Would I have so eagerly continued upwards, Had I known this summit’s pinnacle To stand so elevated That I wouldn’t reach it? But ah, the perspective From atop this foothill. From here, I can see Down to where had I started, Though I cannot see All of the height gained Behind me.” And so with laughter, and a feeling of pride I skipped Down To the bottom. When I arrived in town, I saw my friend. “You know this mountain our town sleeps beneath? This mountain who achieves the highest point On Earth?” “Yes, of course.” “I was just up it.” “Ah, so that’s why you’re all disheveled.” “Yeah meow whatever.” “Well did you summit?” “No, but I went very far. I tired and rested in an ice cave.” “Why did you climb, if not to summit?” “I suppose to come back to town To tell everyone how far I went.” “Are you satisfied?” “I felt proud until you started questioning me.” “Look, look with me up at this mountain, Towering over our town.” We looked. “You see that iridescence?” “I do.” “That spectacular dot.” From where we were standing, it appeared the iridescent sparkle my friend pointed at was atop the summit. “I do see it.” “That is the ice cave from which the true summit of the mountain can be seen. Is that the cave where you stayed?” “I’m not certain. From the cave I was at, it appeared as though a summit was ahead, but it was impossible to judge. The cave I was in does shine beautifully as this one in the day, though at night it appears as the darkest black. It is filled with bats. And only deep enough to sleep in, it doesn’t go very deep.” “Yes, that is the cave we look at now. An old man lives in there.” “I did not notice anyone else there, But it was very dark.” “That cave is right at the summit, though none has ever made it past that cave to the summit.” “Why not?” “The old man says it’s not possible.” “Why would he say it’s not possible?” “He was born up there, has spent his whole life up there, and has never made it to the summit.” “Well how much farther is summit from the cave?” “It is only one hundred feet Of vertical sand and rock.” “How do you know that?” “Hearsay.” “So someone has been up there then.” “It could just be Scientist calculations with their silly measuring tools, It could just be fanciful rumor, I’m not totally certain about anything.” “Do you believe it is possible to summit?” “No one knows. It has happened repeatedly, in the history of this mountain, that a journeyer makes it no farther than the ice cave. I myself only heard about the one hundred foot thing after achieving ice cave, meeting the old man, and turning back around. ‘No one has ever made it to the top of the mountain,’ He told me.” At twilight, I found myself again At the base of the mountain. I would sleep down there To ascend come dawn. By midday, I arrived at the cave. And in the daylight I was struck by its splendorous Façade, glowing Against the mountain. I peered inside. On an ice-covered ledge Above where I had slept, Sat, apparently frozen, a very old man. I didn’t want to disturb his stillness, so I left. But I heard him call to my back, “hello?” So I turned around. “Hello there!” “Was it you, who I had watched over, as you slept here the other night?” “Perhaps it was! I wasn’t aware of your presence Beside my self! I had assumed your sigh Was an echo from mine own breath!” “Indeed, it was you. Welcome back. It is rare that one returns After the treacherous climb to this cave. Have you come to summit?” “Indeed I have. Would you like to ascend together?” “No, I stay here in this cave.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I’ve no reason to climb further.” “Why not?” “I do not know why not. Why have you come to climb?” “I didn’t know why I was climbing, when I had started the other day. But today I know why. I’m going to achieve the summit. I didn’t realize how near It is to this cave!” “How near?” “My friend says it’s just one hundred feet away. Don’t you want to come with me?” We looked up together. Vertical. “I’ll stay down here. I don’t believe that that’s the top.” I wondered, before I continued upward, How much my friend really knew. “How long have you been here?” ”Perhaps for 555 years.” So my friend does know something about numbers. “You’ve been up here for 555 years and you’ve never seen the top? You don’t wish to join me now, To climb just one hundred feet more? To discover whether The point is right there?” “No, I stay here, in the ice, crystalline, crystallized, with the bats.” “As you will, old man, I’ll see you on the way down. I’ll let you know what I discover.” And so I continued, “Just one more step Just one more step Just one more step. One hundred times. Yes. This is what I had come for. Ah, the ocean of mountains all around Ah, the pure air Ah, yes.” I sat At the base of A scraggly dwarf Juniper, Standing solo, At the True Summit. I closed my eyes. Exhale and rest. “Why has no one come up here before me?” I wondered to the Juniper, who oversees this planet. Juniper snuggled me in, comfy in a root-nook, As the sun lulled me to sleep. And what a strange story that Juniper whispered to me while I slept: “They saw the summit as pointless. Their journey as satisfactory enough. That dreary man of echoes, Seated in his glorious, radiant and dark ice throne, Would question them one last time: ‘You have come so far. Have you grown weary? Is the sun preparing to set? Are you certain one hundred feet up will lead you to the true summit?’ They would be talked down.” “Why is that grumpy old man doing that? Why would he live up here, Just to put everyone down?” “That man is but an echo. Over the past 555 years, So many have come up, To rest in the iridescent rock hollow, To Hesitate, Doubt, waver, wary, weary Then go back down. So many, Slept with these thoughts In the echo chamber The icy, reflective cave Birthed The frozen old man, To stay there, At the threshold So near, Yet never here. What a strange dream. When I awoke, I felt ready to descend, Though when I looked down, I could not tell from which way I had come. I looked at the sun. It was midday. I would have to wait to know which direction was rising or setting. And so I stayed at the plateau, and waited. “I was so eager to come up here Why am I so eager to go down? …Why was I so eager to come up?” And so I laughed. “Perhaps I’ll just stay up here. Perhaps if I stay here, I can root in a new groove For all those who wish to ascend Above the false iridescent doubt echo chamber. This is a nice enough place to stay. I don’t need to go back into town. Maybe eventually that old iridescent man will come up here with me. But is this reason for staying up here True? Because I am actually lost.” I was not sure which way I come from. I hadn’t anticipated that returning down Would invite a new challenge. I felt foolish, There at the top. So I spiraled downwards, Eventually arriving by the cave. Ah, familiar recognition. I was so excited to tell the man! O echo chamber, it’s not so far, you can do it! I called into the cave “hallooooo!” I hear ‘hallooooo,’ no response. I didn’t want to break his meditation, Though I knew it was stagnant. I peered in. He had fallen asleep. Should I wait for him to wake up? Or shall I just go back down? I wondered and lingered. “Yes hello” There he was. “I have made it to the summit!” “No, no one makes it to the summit.” I laughed. “Where is the summit? Is it not just one hundred feet away? Is it not from where I just came? I didn’t see any higher to go.” “It may have appeared that way, but surely, you didn’t make it.” “You can go up there too! It’s so close! I’ll even go up there with you!” “No, I’ve climbed far enough I don’t need any more false summits in my life.” “But here I am, in the flesh, telling you that it’s possible. Why have you given up?” “I am very happy here in my cave. I talk with the bats. I oversee the people who come up here Who go back down. I don’t need any more false summits In my weary old age.” “You’re being a Negative Nancy. The summit is literally right there. You may ascend whenever you wish.” “I doubt that that’s the case.” “Don’t you realize that you live in an echo chamber of your own doubt? That you are a crystallization of doubt itself!” “I do realize this. I am aware.” “Then why don’t you want to break free of it?” “It speaks the truth to me. I have only achieved False summits. I believe naught but my own experience.” “That is wise, old man, I shall do the same.” “Well, would you like to come down with me?” “I’ve not come down in 555 years.” “Well, if you’d like, we can walk to town together.” “Okay why not.” “You would walk all the way down the mountain with me, but not just one hundred feet higher to the summit?” “None has ever done that before!” There was nothing I could do. And so we walked to town. I told my story. He told his. A few recognized the man from the cave of their own journey. They remembered the conversation they had had with him. He spoke to them now with even more fervor, “There is no summit. The summit is a lie.” When people would ask “how is this possible? How could a mountain have no summit?” I would reply, “I made it to the summit. The Wise Juniper at the top of the summit Says this man was birthed from the ice cave as the crystallization of our 555 years of doubt. The summit is attainable to any who wish to ascend.” I spoke with the simple truth of my experience. As the frigid, dark old man spoke with his. I told the people, “See for yourself! Take not my word for it, nor this man’s!” They would say, jaded, unconscious, “I’m not going back up there, the sea of false summits, just to have to come down again, unsuccessful.” Instead, they entrusted their authority to the old, inexperienced man. I talked to my friend. “You were right! It is true! No one believes how near the summit is from the cave!” My friend was the only one who believed me, Though still with a trace of wise doubt since he’d not been there himself. He reasoned, “How could there be no summit?” Soon following our descent, the town deemed the 555 year-old man Ice King, Esteemed solely by virtue of having been birthed From the cave with the opalescent façade. People assumed he was wise. Because of the stubbornness that kept him in that cave so long. What a strange world it is that I live in. In this town beneath the mountain This town, who is overseen by The strange, deluded Ice King, The Ice King, who still, unalterably, is overseen by The True Summit. Since my first summit, And since Ice King has been ruling the town, I summit every equinox, To embody the truth. I sit at the foot of the Juniper, relishing its validation. I pray myself to sleep, Imaging the people down below Beholding, Ascending, To celebrate beside me Up here. I pray, In gratitude to the Juniper for its companionship, For its Authority For this scraggly old dwarf is the only life Beside me To bask in the Truth of the Summit, Rooted in Knowing, At the glorious pinnacle Of what is possible.
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