He is bound to its majesty; a mountain, snow-capped
and covered with dreams of the conquest
of its stately infinity. Climbing ever upward, Excelsior,
an excursion of one nods in respect and kneels
to reflect, a thoughtful genuflect to its superiority,
the majority of which is hidden above the clouds.
The only sound he hears is the silent whisper
of an endless space, a chance to see the face of God.
He is found in the placid serenity near the peak
where the winds speak of the wisdom sequestered there.
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016
dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Summit in sight