There he was stranded on the godforsaken desert–again, when he finally began to think. The first steps always lead to the same place, to the bridge between north and his dream. He always walked- straight past the bazaar, past the shop that sold clay pots that smelled like rain.
He knew where to go, his feet led him without much thought. Not once did he stop, to appreciate the beauty of this-Mundane path. He knew where it lead, what it meant, where it would end.
But as he sat on the hot sand, his hands blistering, he questioned. Did he really know? Was everything he thought, a miscalculation? Work meant money, money meant peace, peace meant happiness…right? Right?
Then why did he end up here? What was he searching for? Happiness? Or peace? Was his path correct or just familiar? Was he running towards joy or from his reality?
No comments yet. Be the first to leave one!