Every city has a thousand doors, A thousand names I’ll never know. A café full of strangers laughing, A river with somewhere else to go. Somebody's falling in love tonight, Somebody's saying goodbye. Somebody's missing the only train That might have changed their life. And here I am with borrowed hours, Walking the streets I never planned. Funny how the smallest detour Can rearrange a man. Maybe every corner keeps A story that almost happened. We're all carrying maps without destinations, Drawing little roads across the air. Thinking life is measured by arrivals, When maybe it's the getting there. Every wrong turn writes another chapter, Every question points another way. You don't always find the place you're searching for... Sometimes the place is where you stay. When I was younger, I imagined Life would finally make some sense. That someday I'd become the person Waiting just beyond the fence. Instead I'm collecting conversations, Postcards no one ever sends, Learning that the world grows larger Every time two strangers become friends. She notices things I'd walk past— A cracked old wall, a violin, A window left slightly open Like someone might still walk in. Maybe wonder isn't something you lose. Maybe... You just need someone Who remembers where you left it. We're all carrying maps without destinations, Little compass needles spinning free. Trying to solve tomorrow While missing what's in front of me. If the roads were perfectly decided, Would they still feel worth the climb? Maybe getting lost together Is another way Of finding time. There are versions of me I never became. The husband. The traveler. The man who stayed home. The man who left sooner. The man who never spoke To the girl across the aisle. They all exist somewhere... Like streets I never walked. But this version— The one standing here With Vienna beneath his feet And her laughter somewhere behind him— Feels more real Than all the others combined. We're all carrying maps without destinations, Folding dreams into our coats. Following invisible directions Only hope can seem to know. If tomorrow sends us different ways, If this night becomes a memory, I'll remember that the best direction Was never north, Or south, Or west. It was simply... Turning toward Someone Who turned toward me.
