Why doesn't the immensity understand the infinity of our sorrows?
Yes, if this forest did it, it would have already taken pity on this walker.
But he clings to me, he won't let me go.
A while ago, I marked some trees, I won't deny it, I hesitated; I needed more than faith, to be able to move forward, but in front of me I never saw the proof of my actions.
My actions are the accumulation of decisions, and even without seeing them, they are part of the steps I have taken and they are part of this forest that I have walked.
Ah, present, at every step; Every two steps, a step remains in the past, waiting for a step that will soon accompany it.
Perhaps the past is a way of dying, if the remains of something are proof of its existence. What meaning do these remains without existence have?
Steps, steps, steps; At some point this forest will end.
No, it won't!
If your conscience is the culprit of your doubts, make your voice silence it, and continue, move forward, when you have already walked so much, is there any reason to stop?
I fall face down to the ground, I feel the cold wind on my body. He complains to me for stopping me.
My mind can continue, one step and another; but my body refuses to move forward.
On my knees like a martyr, have I done wrong? Why is there no end for me or the forest?
On your knees, one step and another, they become dozens, tens into hundreds and hundreds into thousands.
One step, two steps and another.