Burn the Maps v5

**Burn the Maps**

In a quiet house upon the hill lived a man called Elias

His walls were lined with maps of gold—empires, mud, and fire

They spoke of buried towers bright, of hidden hands that lied

They answered every doubt he held, and kept his fear inside

He burned the maps, he burned them slow, watched the paper curl to flame

Every perfect answer turned to smoke and blew away

Now he walks without a compass, wind upon his face

Truth is not owned—it’s discovered in this empty, honest space

One autumn night the lines went wrong, the rivers didn’t fit

The mountains lied, the legends broke, the story wouldn’t sit

So he gathered every treasured chart, no anger in his eyes

Laid them gently on the hearth and whispered last goodbyes

No grand design to guide his feet, no voice from heaven’s throne

Just aching knees and broken signs and what the sky has shown

He chooses roads on shaky ground with knowledge thin and pale

Yet finds a deeper peace than certainty could ever sell

Yes he burned the maps and found his freedom in between

No longer chained to golden lies or answers too pristine

He walks this world with open hands, accepts what he can’t know

And finds his peace in not knowing… still choosing where to go

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