Approach the opening
That hides the trail.
Breathe in that first.
The difference of just these steps
That lead you to this point
Are miniscule.

Another step follows the last,
With towers coming to view.
A cathedral
With needle carpet.
A quiet introduces itself.

A breeze stirs the canopy
But never reaches your face.

You, hearing the rush,
See the bendings atop.
Here the stillness remains,
Cut only by your feet's crunch.

The blaze catches your eye,
Reminding you of raison d'etre.
Resist departure. 
Turn.
See your past.
Take another breath.
Know the next will be
Not the same. 

One finger.  One alignment.  One throw.
The sight is glaring.
The course set in ice.