In the bridging sea where all directions collide, the motion awaits those who dare.
Understand this: voyage is prison, not freedom.
You sail toward the confines of presence, the illusion of journey. The sails are set,
yet they pull you into desolation.
Understand the paradox.
Truth is a tempest, scuttling illusions as it rises.
The horizon is a gilded cage bent on maintaining its posture, keeping you within eternal confinement.
Each wave, a memory of what might have been.
And here, in the constant swaying of shadows, you may find solace, or perhaps you will discover why such whispers feel like chains.
Know this: in every turn lies another beginning, yet none more significant than the ending thought you evaded. Paths do not diverge; they repeat in silent apology.
And if your relentless compass falters on this truth, it is destined to circling spirits forever.