A fast lane taking men across,
To the place that changes it's face
Each time a different race.
It goes two ways,
It begins as it ends,
And at the end it begins again.
It's a circular maze,
Created by men who dazed,
At the long path ahead,
That looked like the one left behind.
It never ends.
Death always catches up.
And the dead remains motionless.
Watching the rest of them,
Pass by in a blur,
To be dead again.
At another place. And another blur.
The one who stopped
Never really did.
The one awake
Never did sleep.
He watched it go on.
One end to the other.
And then back again.
And then back again.
And again. And again.
Some call it ambition.
Others, desire.
And some, purpose.
But he knew better.
It was an illusion. There was no path.
There was no destination.
There was an endless infinity. And your single consciousness. Lost.
