Kepedia
Each step I take, every horizon I chase, it's like the world swells—a giant, swallowing me into its gaping maw of endless mystery. With every city's neon spit and every mountain's silent howl, I'm schooled in the humbling lesson of my own insignificance. The more I draw the curtains, the more the stage of life extends, vast and mocking.
I'm a drop in an ocean that's part love song, part tempest. Who am I but a pilgrim in an unwitting odyssey where the unknown vastness laughs at my roadmap, scrawling its own routes across my destiny? My footsteps are echoes that disappear into valleys of culture and peaks of tradition—ancient and ever-spanning.
There's a hunger, gnawing, relentless, that feeds on the scraps of revelation each place offers. But it's a hunger not for conquest but for understanding—a realization that knowledge ain't a cup to fill, but a fire that's stoked with the wood of every uncovered truth, every uncharted path.
Plenty are the roads I've yet to travel, countless the lessons dangling like ripe fruit in the orchard of existence, waiting for hands weathered by life's toil to pluck them. Ain't it the truth? Every journey etches its story on my bones, and yet, my slate's still largely blank—waiting for the scribbles of future encounters.
My tale isn't of destinations conquered, but of the endless quest to fill the hollows of my ignorance. It's the grit under my nails, the dust kicked up by boots that wander, the sweet ache of a soul that thirsts for the nectar of the undiscovered and the wisdom buried in the earth's unfathomable depths.