Reditus... Nihil... Vacuum... You cannot return to what no longer exists. The road behind me is already gone, the stones I walked have moved along. The house I left has turned to rain, the door I closed will not remain. I thought there was a place to find, a home, a past, a peace of mind. But the past is not a room that waits— it is a tide that will not stay. No home, no path, no yesterday, no world that time did not take away. I turn to walk, but where I stand is ash and air and shifting sand. They said the end would lead to dawn. They said the circle would go on. But a circle has no point of rest— just motion, motion, endless quest. Nothing to return to! No house, no field, no door! The past is not a place at all— it is a wave that breaks and falls! I would return if there was something to return to, but what I loved has already gone. Nothing to return to! Only the road, and the road goes on! I tried to find the world I knew, the streets, the sky, the morning dew. But the streets had changed their shape and name, and the sky no longer looked the same. The people I loved had moved or gone, and the face I wore had moved along. I reached for something that could stay— but the world had turned and gone away. If return needs something fixed, then I return to what? To this? To empty air, to broken stone? To the hollow echo of a throne? They said the end would lead to dawn. They said the circle would go on. But a circle has no point of rest— just motion, motion, endless quest. Nothing to return to! No house, no field, no door! The past is not a place at all— it is a wave that breaks and falls! I would return if there was something to return to, but what I loved has already gone. Nothing to return to! Only the road, and the road goes on! Gone... gone... gone... The ground is gone. The home is gone. The self that could return is gone. What remains is movement. Only movement. I will not turn to seek the past. I will not call what did not last. What lived has changed, what loved has flown— and I am left to walk alone. But if I cannot return to what I was, then I am free from what I lost. No home, no past, no ghost, no chain— just the road ahead, and the falling rain. The bell does not call me back. The door does not hold my name. What is gone is gone for good— and the road is all that still remains. Nothing to return to! No house, no field, no door! The past is not a place at all— it is a wave that breaks and falls! I would return if there was something to return to, but what I loved has already gone. Nothing to return to! Only the road, and the road goes on! But the road is not a prison, and the loss is not a chain. What is gone is gone forever, and the walking still remains. Reditus... Nihil... Vacuum... Vivere...
