The road


In the last rays of the dying daylight
An old duellist stands on a hill, overlooking a river
Deep are the lines, etched into his face
Devine the golden rays of sunlight appear
He has lost, this fighter, this duellist
As have I, on the lonely dirt road to wisdom
Through dozens of years, he pursued his hate
Over miles of sea and land, his envy persisted
For the trivial, immaterial quests of the mind
Which have no sollutions, no ends, no outcomes
When the quests themselves have no boundaries
Too few people see, that it's not what we chase that matters
But the way we chase it
That it matters not what we have
But how we got it
Now, after reading these words
Kindly stop nodding
You probably do not understand either.