The Summit after The Shore by Sharon Olds

The earth is furrowed, chromatic, as you step
up, it is shaking.  You look down and catch
a glimpse of
a rock, falling to the bottom
of the mountain, like a snowball gaining size.
You take another step, and witness more–
untamed, unsystematic broken boulders
speeding toward the bottom.  Looking up,
towards the summit, ignoring what has passed,
you are suspended in time,
having risen above nature to
reach the top.  And on top, when I,
your sense of judgment blurs – not
with anger – with the shattering images
of life, you experience in that flash of
wind-struck eyes, a pure birth.