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An old man knocked, so frail, so thin,
"Open the door, let me come in.
I'm tired now, my steps are slow,
These shoes, they've taken all I know."

His voice, a whisper, weak but clear,
"Please, be kind, my end is near.
These shoes have wandered far and wide,
Through ᴊᴏʏ and ʟᴏss, through ᴇʙʙ and ᴛɪᴅᴇ."

He paused and sighed, his breath was thin,
"ℓєτ мє ιи, where light begins.
I've worn these soles through dust and flame,
Through endless roads that had no name."

He spoke of fields where daisies grew,
Of forests bathed in morning dew,
Of mountains high and valleys deep,
Of laughter’s call and shadows steep.

“These shoes have carried youth and age,
Through every joy, through every rage.
They’ve felt the earth’s most tender kiss,
And walked the edge of the abyss.”

His eyes grew soft, a far-off gleam,
"Open the door, let me dream.
For every step my shoes have tread,
Has led me here, to this ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ...