But is it forward?
It starts with time, and if I've lost myself, time is all I have to reclaim my thoughts.
Moments in passing, but lifetimes in the making, my journey eclipses distance, and here I am, or now I am, so far from home but so much closer than I've ever known.
I'm walking forward, but a straight arrow can spend a lifetime revolving in a futile clock.
And freedom expects me even in the past.
A thousand years of traveling couldn't find me the map I'd need to escape from this maze.
I have no footprints to follow and no warm hands to hold for comfort.
But I face myself and endless nightmares made real, and make my move to end the questions.
Lo and behold, there are no mistakes in time.