Which direction to go, I do not ask,
As the stream of life carries me,
Choosing for me, because I choose to let it.
Which direction to go, dare I ask?

If I choose, I will have only myself
To account for the place I arrive,
Even there, the question repeats.
Perhaps this is where the fear comes from.

Which direction to go, will I ask,
As the stream of time carries me,
To a new moment, the same question.
Which direction to go, I ask?

If I choose, I will arrive for a brief time
In a place only to have to choose again,
Everywhere, the question eternally repeats.
Perhaps this is where the freedom comes from.