The Winding Path

Not all those who wander are lost." — J.R.R. Tolkien The road stretches thin, barely seen, A ribbon of light in a world serene. Whispers of past lives in the air, Echoes of dreams forgotten there. Each step a heartbeat, slow, profound, Where time’s old fingers grasp the ground. Footprints dissolve, then fade away, But still, the path continues to sway. A flutter of wings, a sudden breeze, In the rustle of trees, I find my peace. No destination, no need to roam, For the journey itself has become my home.