The Solo Traveler

I looked at the road ahead,

a long, gray ribbon cutting through the mist.

There were no footprints beside mine,

no shadows to keep me company.

I was a man of character,

but I was finally learning that some paths

must be walked with a heavy, silent heart.

I carried a bag full of "Status" and "Degrees,"

hoping they would make the journey easier.

But the mountain didn't care about my name,

and the wind didn't ask for my history.

I had the tarbiyat of a man

who was taught to win the race,

but never taught how to sit with his own soul.

I squeezed my grip on my walking stick,

feeling the grit of the wood against my palm.

I wanted someone to hold my hand,

to tell me that the light was just over the hill.

But the silence was my only guide.

I realized that "New Life"

is not a destination you reach,

it is the strength you find when no one is watching.

I am loyal to my destination,

but I am falling in love with the solitude.

Because on a lonely journey,

you don't just find the way;

you find the person you were meant to be.

Success is not arriving with a crowd.

It is being okay with the echo of your own steps.

Stay firm in your art.

Stay loyal to your solitude.

The universe is not empty,

it is just listening to your walk.