so some find themselves in the mirror, and went on renewed;

It surprises me where some people are, how they have changed;

Everyone's changed. In some way or another, adapting to their situations wherever the wind has taken them.

I'm still here. Still the same. Am I?

There are those who have always been there at the top, unmatchable pillars of achievement.

There are those who fell from view; have they lost? Certainly not yet; it is only over at the point of death. Then they are somewhere, building their lives in a different way from the rest of us.

And I am still here, still on my old road, perhaps not physically at least. Still walking.

The sun has set and the lights of others are drifted far away, and the road is mine;

My claim is laid to that which others have deserted; my name is written in the dust upon the ground, undisturbed.

And I stumble blindly from junction to junction, always pushing ahead;

it's only over when you stop moving.

Vagabond, and King.

Which is truer?

Or is truth in the mind's eye?

What drives them to seek? What force of life, what values?

I am too young to be weary.

Yet weary of it all, I have become. Tired of fighting for dominion over the scarcity of acclaimed success.

This I know, perhaps four years now.

And all convince themselves, whether they are one or two, that theirs is the best course;

I would like to convince myself, too. But I cannot make a judgment;

Rare the person would be to walk my path with me; and were she to exist, I would fear for her happiness.

Perhaps it is better if she does not exist.

How many people would have time for all this, anyway?

Is this stuff even important? Would it be considered important?

Could it be important? and everyone turns a blind eye so they can keep going

Doubt is always in my mind.