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?