I ran with an open heart,
barefoot on the path of truth,
chasing the light I once carried,
never fearing the dark.

But honesty is a quiet fire,
and not all hands that reach for it
come with warmth—some only seek
to steal its glow.

I welcomed them,
folded them into my journey,
let their laughter echo in my steps,
mistaking presence for purpose,
companionship for direction.

I ran faster, for them,
matched their pace,
forgot my own.

The wind whispered warnings,
but I mistook them for songs.
The road twisted, blurred,
and suddenly, they were ahead,
and I was lost.

Where had my steps gone?
Where was the fire I carried?
I looked for my reflection
and found only absence.

Running honest,
I ran too far from myself.
And in the distance,
somewhere behind me,
I left my smile.