Pinnacles

Only a couple of rungs from the top
He fell
Down into the chasm of his
Truest self
The giddiness of the heights
Cooly reflected in the stillness of his
Finally present mind

Able to reject the folly of false illusion

Rivers breaching dams
Rocks pouring out of mountains
Trees taking shape with new limbs
Rich with the fruit of
Wisdom
Feet planted at last
In heavenly stench of saturate Earth.