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Here I walk alone,
down the path of stones.

Here it’s freezing cold;
and I’m chilled to the bone.

But what else am I to do
other than walking?

Down the path of stones,
I walk without stopping.

Tirelessly, to the goal
I keep on going.

When I’ll get there,
I have no way of knowing.

The only thing I know is,
I need to get there.

The thought of giving in
is something I can’t bear.

When I eventually
get there, I swear,

I’ll cry and shout
until I run out of air.

Thinking of perseverance. And walking — unhurriedly.

— Petra