Point to pinnacle

Solid star hovering over
Posing in greyness
Striking through deliberate
Claiming the pinnacle
Peak most tender point
Baring nerve endings
Of the mountain
Changeable in season
Day and hour
Never tire of watching
Waiting to draw curtain
From mist and storm
One day lost from
Following twisting paths
Do we never leave
Sea level again?
How to find you now
Not knowing the place
Like the back of my hand
Hiding in the crevices
Waiting for help at hand
Sea legs cave under me
Used to bouyancy
Not the heavy hand
Of altitude
Beckoning voice
Reckons waypoints
Would never be reached
To begin with

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