Fast lane

Living in the fast lane, everything happens on autopilot,
Caught in a continuous race, we exceed the speed limit,
Not enough time to fuel, we run on empty and get lost,
Forget where the start line was, endlessly we sprint.

Never looking back, we cross past our boundaries,
Until the sensation that something's missing occurs,
We cast our eye behind: forests clad in mysteries,
While our mind is struggling to decipher, the cure's, 

Patiently waiting to be released from our wise souls,
As they know the destination is closer than we think,
Once our path's direction is remembered, the lows,
Suddenly will gain meaning, the leaves will be in sync.

You may wonder what the green painting signifies,
How the initial location connects all the scattered dots.
Thus, it's time to reveal the answer, as it dignifies,
All the established laws, entirely harmonizing your thoughts.

Listen to your heart and you will find out that the route,
Begins with nothing, apart from your gifts, situated inwards.
Looking back now, you'll admire all the sunsets and soothe,
Your wounds with their beams, so take a seat in your backyards,

Allow yourselves to become fascinated by the following decoding:
The finish line belongs nowhere but our souls' sanctuary,
Taking shelter in the fast lane, we drifted apart, under the loading,
Of the pressure's weight, we stained our core with misery.

Relieved, we realize there isn't any need to rush,
Stopping for a while to charge, came to our senses,
We achieve peace and the engine's noise - hush,
As the race ended, we return home in victory:
We reclaimed our essence.

Photo by Steven Wong on Unsplash