The days are spent in quiet chase,
A steady march, a changing pace,
I wander through the shifting streams,
The echoes of my fractured dreams.

I used to know exactly where,
The road would lead me, how I'd fare.
But now the map is worn and torn,
Still, I walk though I've been worn.

There’s strength in letting go, I’ve learned,
In fading lights, in bridges burned.
Yet in the dark, I still might see
A glimmer of who I used to be.

So here I stand, with both my hands,
I’ll write my future from the sands.
The past is never far away,
It guides the steps I take today.

I’m not who I was, but I still strive,
The heart that once felt dead is alive.
And though it’s me who shapes the way,
I am reborn in each new day.