Contorted roads, shadowed lanes, endless paths.




No matter how we stray,

No matter how much we wander,

We will all converge upon the same road.


Take as many twists, turns, and loops.

You’re bound to stumble upon the road.


Slowly, painfully, expectedly,

Or a sudden forceful push onto the path set in stone.


The road has no limits,


No age,

No circumstance,


No sympathy.


Like the end of a book,

Turning of the last page,

The end of laughter.


When the road meets my gaze,

I hope to be at peace,


A breath of relief,


A journey into the unknown,

A passage into eternity.


“Life is the art of dying,” they say.


The road must be so beautiful,

My very own ending,

My very own sunset,

All to myself.

Each step, a brushstroke on the canvas of eternity,

Painting our story in hues of joy and sorrow,

Weaving a tapestry of moments,

That linger in the fabric of time.


Hearing nothingness,

Nothing to worry,

Nothing, in the void of oblivion.


Forget time,

The tick of the clock,

Don’t rush,

No future, no past,

No yesterday, no tomorrow.


To be at the end of life.




Listen to the silence.


In the end,

The road is not an ending,


But a new beginning.


For what is life without death?


To merge with the earth,

To become home.

Writer – Bianca Hu
Editor – Robbie Ge
Artist – Rufina Chan

–April 2024–

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.