Every step I take, the destination drifts further,
Like I never flinched from my starting line.
Am I truly moving—or just imagining motion?
This constant struggle of duality isn’t the enemy of my path—
It is my path. It is I.
Confident in nothing.
The way of solitude gives me euphoria.

My path has many distractions.
They haunt me, they’re tempting me to stay or return.
It’s getting hard to stay on the road.
My will is my lantern, which flickers with my every step.

I’m scared.
I look at the bushes on the side of the road with fear.
My movement gets slow.
I’m shivering.
I know there is a predator, and I’m its prey—
Still, I ignore it, like a sacrificial lamb.

This road may end with me—
Or my grief may end me before it.