OMost times, I wish I could control the end of my journey,
But most times, it feels like I wander about with the wind of uncertainty.
The Sun do not always set where it journeyed from,
But unlike it, I find myself being led by the hands of a broken compass.
Though surrounded by a sea of familiar faces,
The heart aches for the unknown places,
And maybe tomorrow or the next,
I can’t say,
Or maybe with the next person and not the former,
I can’t tell,
All the heart wish
Is to rest from its journey,
But too often, the most beautiful to the soul,
Is the most invisible to the eye.
But what if our journey never ends,
And what it he road that leads home is lost in the fog,
What do we do if tomorrow fails to come,
And where do we go when home seems far away.
Maybe to live for today and be satisfied with it is our only choice,
Or to wait for tomorrow which may never come.