For years I climbed the mountain,
Seeking the wisdom at the top,
I thought enlightenment was waiting,
If only I could reach the top.

I meditated and reflected,
Memorized the ancient texts,
Hoping I could someday master,
The rules along the winding steps.

Each time I reached a higher plateau,
I felt I lacked the perfect view,
Always there appeared another peak,
That seemed much closer to the truth.

Exhausted, finally I crumpled,
Unable to take another stride,
My seeking mind had reached its limit,
I felt lost, unsure where to abide.

And in my moment of surrender,
Still lying there beside the trail,
The silent presence I had sought,
Revealed itself without fail.

It was not on some distant summit,
But right there within my aching heart,
The awareness I had always longed for,
Had been there right from the start.

No more seeking could reveal it,
No path could bring it any nearer,
The presence had always been the seeker,
The truth was not somewhere—but right here.

I saw the mountain resided in me,
And I in the mountain as one,
The aware silence I sought was boundless,
It was the ground from which all comes.

No more chasing dreams of somewhere else,
At last this moment is fully seen,
Sitting quietly with simple wonder,
At the perfection that has always been.