Walking down a worn-out path

In a long-forgotten wood,

I am searching for something

That I have never seen nor known,

Only read about in books.

What can I be searching for?

Does it even have a name?

What is it? What is it?

Oh, I wonder if it can be seen in the light of day.

What if what I seek can't be sensed?

What if I can't feel it. . .

touch it. . .

taste it. . .

hear it. . .

see it. . .

What would I do then?

Oh, how I have followed this worn-out path

For so long that it has become familiar.

I have been searching for something unknown to me,

And it still refuses to reveal itself or be seen.

Maybe I have been traveling in circles?

Have I already searched here?

Has this well-traveled path deceived me?

Does it not lead me to what I seek?

Since I have begun to doubt the path,

Maybe it is time to travel the wood itself

Instead of following a worn-out path.

Maybe what I have been searching for has always been near,

But never in the realm of the familiar.

All I have to do it travel off this path

And make my way into the unknown.

The wood's darkness can be deceiving

For some say it shows fear,

But I say it shows mystery.

How many before me

Have decided to seek out their desires themselves,

Instead of waiting for a path to lead them?