Sometimes from somewhere a may be comes. Now may be is hope. It is told to you if you can run till a point you might catch what you are seeking. The time is limited. You have no idea of the way. Your resolve at first will be far from achieving it. But in the now you start running. But you realize that light has started getting darker. The steps are uneven. Some slopes. Some roses with thorns of autumn. Some puzzles to make the way interesting. If you then just gain that rhythm of not merely running but enjoying the performance of just being. Using body and mind just as a tool. That when you will even reach. There will be no one to clap. But the rewards are going to be so multiple from all the oxytocin that you created with your thoughts, with your lungs. That whole space will start treating you as you are his own. Quietly.