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.