I walk my path miles away From all the people, At night So that my shadow can't haunt me With my regrets. It is a long, long way, Mostly straight but still unclear, And the darkness and the isolation are frightening And beautifully familiar All at once.
Sometimes I feel as though I am made of stone: Strong, But hollow on the inside; Every step I take Echoes through me, Settling into my head and my heart and my soul. My stone feet are heavy, And they leave marks In the dust As I go along.
Sometimes I think That I might burn into embers and ashes, Starting with my fingertips and my toes, And drift about on the wind. People will glance at me as I blow past, And some might notice my absence In the same way that one notices the absence of leaves On the trees in winter: A fugitive thought of what is to come, And a fleeting memory of what has already passed.
I walk my path miles away From all the people, At night So that my shadow can't haunt me With my regrets. It is dark and lonely, And my feet are stone and my fingertips are burning. The moon shines Cold and weary, And my journey is mostly straight but still unclear.
I consider how far I've come And how far I've yet to go, And I continue on my way.