The way back down
Is never as nice.
The deed is done
The path is ice.

It jars your knees
As you cling to the face.
You slide on your ****
Snow behind achase.

You find your footing
Toes over the lip,
Peering and looking
Rocks fall and flip.

In not quite darkness
The bottom you see.
Eternal dankness
Yet relief for thee.