I don’t know what waits ahead I don’t name it when I move Every line I’ve ever drawn Feels thinner when I choose The ground still shifts beneath my feet But I don’t freeze or stall I’ve learned the weight won’t follow me If I don’t carry it at all No signal clears the way I step anyway I’m crossing — not escaping Not chasing solid ground Just leaving where I learned to stay When fear was all I found I don’t know what’s on the other side I don’t need it to be clear I’m crossing — still uncertain But I’m moving from here Old habits start to fade When I stop rehearsing doubt I don’t turn to check behind me I don’t measure my way out There’s no promise in the air No voice telling me I’m right Just the sense that standing still Is heavier than the night I don’t wait for certainty I move I’m crossing — not escaping Not claiming higher ground Just walking where the path appears Without a backward sound I don’t know who I’ll be out there I don’t need to decide I’m crossing — still becoming Letting motion be my guide If I stumble, I’ll adjust If I pause, I’ll breathe I don’t need to outrun myself To know I’m finally free I’m crossing — not the ending Not the place I finally land Just the choice to keep on moving Without the weight in my hands I don’t know what waits ahead I don’t need to arrive I’m crossing — still becoming And that’s enough to survive I’m crossing I’m crossing Still becoming
