Open the window… Let the morning invent you, There is no shame in arriving unfinished, Leave a light burning somewhere behind, For the self you may one day find. Rooms that never learned your face, Daylight spent as if it could not end, A platform, a half-torn ticket, A crowd that almost says your name, You promised yourself later… Later grew thin… One gray morning the calendar turns, And the boy who was searching, Is already someone else. Youth is a coat you keep lending to strangers, Whatever they return becomes the lesson you know… Every road, every loss, every love that changes… Becomes the compass you hold. You chase the horizon as if it owes you a sign. It keeps its color, it leaves you behind… A kid with a broken radio says, Do not wait to be chosen. Make one honest thing, And keep it from closing. A kitchen that still knows my name, Mileage in my hands, And for once, I don’t need to go anywhere… No prophet… No priest… No answer waiting above… Perhaps there was never a purpose, The world was meant to give. Youth is a coat you keep lending to strangers, Whatever they return becomes the lesson you know, Every road, every loss, every love that changes, Becomes the compass you hold. Every road brought me here, Every loss became something I carry. Becoming someone useful, In the life that is already mine. © 2026 Synkov LLC. All rights reserved.
