I set off down the path in search of truth.
I know that I won’t find it, and I hope
that I won’t find it.
I take my mask off.
There is no cure for life.
There is no cure for existential angst.
We spend our whole life climbing different mountains
and when we reach the top, ‘What now?’ we ask.
We find another mountain, and we climb.
Why do we climb the mountain? So that we
can throw rocks at the sun. We always miss.
I know that I will never find ‘enlightenment’;
it’s not a thing which can be found.
I find that isolation works the best.
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