Ouroboros of Inadequacy

(Inspired by this exchange.)

The mountain would not come to me,
    So I went to the mountain.
I slogged upstream, wading through the creek.
On the trail, the ground gave way beneath my soles, and I slid.
Climbing up the face, my sweaty palms grasped against handholds without gripping.
But at the top
   The summit fled.