Years Ago

Years ago, the scorching sun crept over the mountain and burned me with its eternal presence. Sapped of energy and at the expense of progress, I desiccated in the blazing sun, and wrote of precisely how miserable the journey was. A skill discovered by curiosity, refined by tears, my entries a symbol of suffering.

What draws me, now, to that wretched journal despite the strides I've made?

Maybe because I shudder, looking down while climbing the great mountain, realizing how far only now I'll fall. Maybe because I miss those who no longer take the trek. Or maybe because this is what I've always done, marking the choss and blazing the trail.

I have left so many markings of danger and failure that my blazed trail may as well be snowed over. Though, if I had to pick a place to start, to start leaving symbols of advancement, hope for the future, I would rather start now.

The radiant sun illuminates my path, showing me the world otherwise obscured by night. I grasp at the steep slopes, that misunderstood orb squeezed beneath my fingers. A skill discovered by curiosity, refined by tears, now a symbol of resilience. Years later here I am, and now the trail can truly begin.