And still we push forward

all along the strange road,
the Earth seems to hold our feet

And dancing among the pattern of time
are echoes of ourselves
laced through sound,
within our dreams -

who we might be is just a thought away
and still, we push forward, like we don't know what's coming

Like death has no hold on this body..
but that makes us alive
and we crave the clear essence
of not knowing