Why do we die? What's death? Could we escape it if we knew when to expect it? Is the time of our departure predetermined? Our dying, part of an endless clockwork? We all have one truth in common. We are born. And we die. No matter what path we take in between.
If we knew where our journey would take us, would we still make the same decisions? Or would we choose a different path? Could we even escape our fate? Or would what deep is within us lead us to the same end, like an invisible hand? Does it matter which path we choose if we end up facing ourselves again and again?
Home is behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead
We'll wander back to home and bed.