How do we know, how can we see,
the endpoint of the path
beneath our feet?
Our hopes lie on the other side
of mountains on the far horizon.
Have they grown over time?
They seem now to be
blocks to my destiny
(and which lie, anyway
when I lift tired eyes to see
behind endless plains of same-old pain
Is it just me, trapped in the journey,
never arriving to see
the benefits of why I strapped these shoes
to these old feet in the first place?
(Photos courtesy of pixabay.com)