The Horizon That Walks Beside Us

We chase the line where earth kisses sky,

Calling it future, calling it why.

Yet every step we take, the horizon moves,

Not away, but alongside, in quiet grooves.

It is not a destination drawn in ink,

Nor a promise waiting on some distant brink.

It is the companion that never falls behind,

The shadow of possibility, patient and kind.

We map our days with arrows and plans,

As if certainty were held in human hands.

But the path reveals itself only as we tread,

Turning questions into footsteps, doubt into bread.

What we fear as emptiness is merely space

Where the horizon leans in, offering grace.

It does not rush. It does not demand.

It simply walks with us, holding our hand.

Look back: the road we thought was lost

Has become the story, the bridge, the cost.

Every detour a teacher, every fog a veil

That parts to show the next hidden trail.

So cease the frantic reaching for the edge.

The horizon is not something to catch or pledge.

It is the rhythm between each breath we draw —

The living boundary of wonder and awe.

We are not lost when the map runs dry.

We are exactly where the unknown and I

Decide to meet, decide to become

The next unfolding line beneath the sun.