There is a path with no milestones
There is a journey with no destination
There are obstacles yet never visible
There are fellow travellers, oblivious
Rather nothing is never obvious
We stride down like a river somewhere
Somewhere Stuck in the middle like a pond
No predictions, no map, no guide
Every sight is intimate as self along the stride
Somewhere we go on pretending
Somewhere we think we can fool ourselves
But we forget,
no journey ever pretends of being a stroll
There is no home, no familiar places
Only Fellow travellers meeting on crossroad spaces
Every sunset and sunrise at the horizon makes us fall and rise
Every dark path smells like death
As if passing from the graveyard cries
Morning rays hit us bringing ecstasy
Promising us the direction on a clean road which we ought to see
It goes on and on
The path never ends
The journey never stops
We make our stories along the way
Until death comes to pass..
