The road

In the last rays of the dying daylight

An old duellist stands on a hill, overlooking a river

Deep are the lines, etched into his face

Divine the golden rays of sunlight appear

He has lost, this fighter, this duellist

As have I, on the lonely dirt road to wisdom

Through dozens of years, he pursued his hate

Over miles of sea and land, his envy persisted

For the trivial, immaterial quests of the mind

Which have no solutions, no ends, no outcomes

When the quests themselves have no boundaries

Too few people see, that it's not what we chase that matters

But the way we chase it

That it matters not what we have

But how we got it

Now, after reading these words

Kindly stop nodding

You probably do not understand either.