Where to plunge?

Go on, this is only your first obstacle,
Thus glittered the first drop from the first cut,
And as I coasted along, another landed,
Go on, the next drop said, and please, watch your step,
And then as I strode came the third, the fourth and fifth,
Now gashes, not the mere forgettable streaks,
Deeper, longer, redder and bloodier, as I stood,
March on, they said, like their fathers, and march on I did,
And then came the stabs and spears, to merrily greet,
Wrapping me in jewels of flowing red, as I now could only meander,
There's light at the end of this dark tunnel, so march on,
They said, and in fine red cloak, march on, I did,
The tunnel ended, and then stood a mountain, for me to climb,
The petrified rocks beneath, adorned many trinkets,
With their many masterly strokes, slashed my sole and heels,
March on, o'er the mountains, there's a brilliant light to see,
They said, I marched on, leaving behind roads of red lanes,
In the end I got to the top, and saw the sun rise,
The sun rose and with its long arms coldly pierced me
Even as I hoped it would embrace and help me heal,
A ray for every cut, gash and wound it set off to probe,
Through my many wounds, my soul's skin it began to peel,
Alas! is it to suffer this shrouding, scorching pain, I winced,
Did I come this far, is this what I endeavoured to gain?
And in what stream of roaring pristine waters,
Should I plunge into, my soul, of all the grime, to clean?