rocks and more rocks ahead, it seems,
a winding path without straight lines,
forcedly mysterious, with light as hope,
navigating with caution.
reminded of the glory days,
thoughts rare, experiences vast,
detached from the primary earth.
what of reality, when it is made,
not lived. but what is real?
finding answers to thin air,
hope ends somewhere.
searching with less enthusiasm,
appears realistic, yet surreal,
until truth is found,
or finally understood.