Certainty of Doubt

You walk on a tightrope not because you're brave, but because you have nowhere else to turn. Perhaps certainty is, in fact, sitting right there in front of you, unnoticed and voiceless. Today feels like yesterday's shadow under a sunlight that's lost its warmth.

Maybe that's where we find solace—a deceptive comfort in questions as wide as the sea. Did we believe in wrong paths, or do we believe in paths at all? Mountains of our own making, uncovering dust in forgotten diaries, each page a whisper that leads nowhere.

They say the doubt won't mind if we call it by name, but doubt knows every secret. It's a traveler who never sets sight on a destination, always a step behind its own woundering. We're curious, yes, but the landscape before us is one of indistinguishable echoes.