Without this mountain,
I cannot climb,
I cannot reach this peak,
and claim it as mine,
I cannot conquer its hanging ledge,
it's blistering wind,
I can only soften,
and degenerate into sin,
into a bag of sensory organs,
without purpose other than to intake,
to sit and exist,
without motion or thought,
but with this mountain,
I climb towards realization,
the mountain is here because I want it to be,
the mountain exists in dual properties,
in mind and body,
and without it,
without this conflict,
without this drive,
I am nothing,
the husk,
buried in sand in a flat desert,
remaining on level ground,
stuck,
wasting,
dead.