I’ve climbed the peaks of my ambitions,
Gathered medals, built traditions,
Each step forward marked with pride,
Yet something stirs, unfulfilled inside.
The paths I’ve walked, they glimmered gold,
Stories of growth and journeys bold,
But as I stand and take a view,
I wonder—was this path mine to pursue?
The roads ahead stretch vast, unknown,
Some feel foreign, some feel home,
Yet none whisper, This is the way,
They tease the question I ask each day.
Am I the architect of my dreams?
Or just a player in someone’s scheme?
I’ve built, I’ve grown, I’ve reached, I’ve tried,
Yet the spark of purpose hides inside.
Success is hollow when roots aren’t deep,
And growth feels shallow when dreams don’t keep,
But in this fog, a truth unfolds:
The answers lie in the soul I hold.
So I’ll pause the rush, the endless chase,
Sit with myself in this still, quiet space,
Listen to whispers of passion’s fire,
To rediscover what I truly desire.
For purpose isn’t in paths pre-paved,
It’s carved where courage meets hearts unscathed,
And though I wander, uncertain, unclear,
I trust the compass I hold right here.
I may not know which way to steer,
But each step forward conquers fear,
And in the journey, I’ll find my part—
For purpose is born from the seeking heart.
