Summit
Snow, rock, and sky.
An upward spiral
in a circling sun's eternal light.
Slowly, breathing thin air,
you ascend,
guided by vibrations
and the visions you could not escape.
Above, it waits,
the dreambeast formed of living stone,
still as a predator—
its cry the wind,
its claws the cold,
your wanderlust its siren song—
watching your snowblind stumble.