A Purpose (II)

I extended a poem I'd written earlier corresponding to my deepening understanding of Nietzsche.

 Standing on top of the mountain

Contemplated the wanderer.

What purpose had his pursuits

Of only climbing higher?

Tired and exhausted

He finally wanted to sit down

But he wanted to sit down

Only when he knew others wouldn't frown

He looked down for a second

Into the deep dark depths

A chasm of death and destruction

Which cleaved the inside of his soul

He shivered and backed away terrified

And decided to continue his journey

Higher, even higher

Terrified of what he saw beneath.

He didn't have it in him

To confront the abyss

It wasn't climbing which had tired him.

Standing ever higher 

Contemplated the wanderer 

What purpose had his pursuit

Of traveling higher and higher

The toils of the world 

Lay heavy at his feet

As he looked down

At a foggy jagged landscape

He saw a chasm of stagnation

Skeletons littered, the bitter and so was the snow.

The sorrow of the world called out to him

Like a sirens song

To stake his flag on the summit he had climbed

To lay claim to his magnum opus

He felt a moment of hesitation

But as he looked forward

To the infinite distance toward,

His only companion,

He laughed his superhuman laugh.

The shackles at his feet poked into the brilliance of his being 

The irony of the situation was not lost upon him.

But onward he looked in transcendent joy

The theater of the world 

With it's corrupting deluge of weakness

Could never hold his eternal dance

The glory of the infinite

Flowed through him in a bacchic trance.

He laughed at the undead 

And also at along with the giants

On whose shoulders he stood on

He was branded a heretic

But he continued his journey unfazed.