I keep treading the lonely paths,
Where all signposts are vague or worn,
Hoping to find that mystic place,
Where truths and destinies are born.

The paths are too faint and many,
Like wide-spread branches in a tree,
And it would be a miracle,
To find the correct path for me.

For now I just keep plodding on,
til l find the answers at last,
Then I can rest my wearied bones,
When no more far-off dreams are cast.