I am alone in the world. I move through the passage of time but I stand still. The world around me moves and changes yet I remain motionless. Here I lay, dying. Not living or trying, crying and dying. I fear finding a path to travel so I do not move. But by remaining I miss out on the mysteries that lay ahead on the unexplored road ahead of me. Some other may be in the shady forest hidden by the dense foliage but it matters not because I remain still. Mere feet from my position they may have reached but my voice was frozen refusing to call out, so I let them go on without me. Many others have passed me by and now have found others who followed their lead, but not I, I remain still, for I am afraid. I feel trapped in a locked cage and I wait for someone with a key to release me and pull me from my cage. I know not if this cage exists because I refuse to move. Why do I keep myself locked in a cage, refusing to look for a path? What compels me to hurt myself by refusing to move? I see some shadow in the distance, but this shadow is attached to a form. I am a form without a shadow, and I can not steal a shadow already with form. Yet I wish I had that shadow as my own, instead of looking for a shadow without form. Even if I could have this shadow as my own it matters not because I stand still. I let the trees around me grow and die. And I too will stand still like the trees and grow old and die, never having moved from my place.