In the roads we travel,
our destination is always
a tiny speck on the horizon
where it meets the greeting dawn.
Many of the roads we travel down
a harbinger of fate waits for us there
to change our destiny
from the one we have chosen.
They stand a hitchhiker
along the lonely miles
waiting for us to stop
to give them a lift.
Stopping will be our fate decided
before our destination met.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.