Everything passes on and everything remains,
But our lot is to pass on.
To go on making paths,
Paths across the sea…
...Traveller, your footprints
Are the path and nothing more;
Traveller, there is no path,
The path is made by walking.
By walking the path is made
And when you look back
You’ll see a road
Never to be trodden again.
Traveller, there is no path,
Only the wake left in the sea…
Antonio Machado
