The pain stung like sky and ember.
The rising altitude bruised with emptiness.
The loss of breath was like drowning under snow.
You miss it, badly:
Finding your end.
The exhaustion,
The mental suffocation,
Even the pull of black sleep.
What comes next is the best part.
When the pain starts to sing a little louder between your knees, down your empty lungs, and through your frozen ribs. When it becomes so unbearable you want to give up, but then you remember- this is why you're here.
The pain, the emptiness, it's all a part of it. The mountaintop is only a bonus.
So you continue moving forward. And you take another step. And then another. And countless more into the pain, for as long as it takes, and despite what you feel- for you came to get an answer. You came to hear the mountain approve of your worth- that you're more than you were, when you first stepped on the mountain.
And now, thanks to the pain and the misery, again, you have purpose. You have a form of meaning to hold onto. You have something to fight for.
------
Again, the end is calling.
You hear it.
And you miss it, badly, -
Pain, agony, and all.
But truly, you know what lies beneath.
Truly, you know what you miss the most:
The serenity of finding what you're made of.