The Way
Will it come or will it not?
The day when the joy becomes grief be comes small?
Great when the day that I have been driven forward into a unknown land.
The path grows steeper,
The air colder and sharper.
A wind from my goals stirs the strings with expectations.
Still the question;
Shall I ever get there?
There where my life is a clear pure note.
Will If I never measure the height of a mountain, until
I have reached the top.
Then I will never see how low it was.
So he who keeps his eyes fixed on the far way will find his right road.
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