Above towers the might of the mountain, rising ever
upwards. Its peak is hidden from view by
clouds blanketing the sky in a uniform greyness.
Below, visible through the trees clinging to the slope is a
valley of lush grass and a sparkling stream of water.
For what reason does the climber seek the unknown,
struggling against the strenuous rocky rise?
Is it Glory and the adulation of others? Or some inner fire that drives them?
What disgrace is there in saying enough and seeking a serene
life beside a babbling brook with no conflict, no strife, and no accomplishment?
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