You're actually here. You've made it. Wow what a journey it must have been. Surely it's not the end, but look at what is already here to know what comes next. 

As you look upon the path, you realize it has been traversed many times before. You are not the first nor the last to stand in this spot and ponder your place.   

You feel safe here, perhaps the others who came here did as well. Yet you see a faint trail going forward.

They're dusty, perhaps it shows the whoever was here left a long time ago. Maybe you will see them if you continue, they must be quite far by now.

Were they also afraid? Probably, but it didn't stop them.

You start reparing it, it might not be the same in the end but that's the point.

You're not sure why you do it, you think you want others to have the best of this place but you don't know if anyone will even be here, or should you even care. 

Perhaps you want to remember this period better than it was, by simply making it better for the remainder of its days. 

Even though you expected the cold, the view outside is more breathtaking than what you could see from your window.

And even when it's not, you know you're one of few who has ever laid their eyes on it.

You look at the trail and wonder if it is ever worth to be in the cold.