How is life like a temporary camping ground?

So if it has to do with poetry, I wrote this in my lunch break and hope it's helpfull.

You are a wanderer
about to go on a hike you've never been before.
You know the end
and how to get there

but the more you hike
you know it's not about arriving
but striving for everything along the way
for all the fray, the loss and sadness,
for all the hurt, the tears, the madness,
but also joy and all the memories,
all your friends and all your enemies,

sometimes you think, you walk alone
with only your shadow cast on stone
but you'll meet others on your way,
to stay is sometimes what you want,
and haunted are your memories
by all the firends who couldn't wait,
who walked along
but so do you
and some you'll maybe meet again.

Everyone has to go their way
but in one place you'll never stay
life is like a temporary camping ground

(For explanation: life is a temporary camping ground, or more than one - you hike, go your own way in life and where you camp is like a stage - like a moment, like high school - where you meet people. But you know that hike or those camping grounds are not forever - so in reality you won't be in high school forever, at some point you move on, leave people and freinds behind. Eventually your hike is over and you reached death as your final destination, but it's ok, because you never did the hike for the destination, but for the things along the way.)
Oh and by the way I'm a 22 year old girl from Germany, so I apologize for any misspelling.