old-path-white-clouds-thich-nhat-hanh

dishevelled, their mouths hanging open like dead fish. Their arms, so soft and supple during the dance, now looked as stiff as boards. Their
legs were tangled across each other’s bodies like victims on a battlefield. Siddhartha felt as though he were crossing a cemetery.
He made his way to the stables and found Channa still awake.
“Channa, please saddle and bring Kanthaka to me.”
Channa nodded. He had prepared everything. Kanthaka was already bridled and saddled. Channa asked, “May I accompany you,
prince?”
Siddhartha nodded and Channa entered the stable for his own horse. They led the horses out of the palace grounds. Siddhartha stopped
and stroked Kanthaka’s mane. “Kanthaka,” he spoke, “this is a most important night. You must give me your best for this journey.”
After preparing Kanthaka for a long journey, Channa asked Siddhartha, “May I accompany you?”
He mounted Kanthaka and Channa mounted his horse. They walked them to avoid making any loud noise. The guards were fast asleep,
and they passed through the city gates easily. Once well beyond the city gates, Siddhartha turned for a last look at the capital, now lying
quietly beneath the moonlight. It was there that Siddhartha had been born and raised, the city where he had experienced so many joys and
sorrows, so many anxieties and aspirations. In the same city now slept everyone close to him—his father, Gotami, Yasodhara, Rahula, and
all the others. He whispered to himself, “If I do not find the Way, I will not return to Kapilavatthu.”
He turned his horse towards the south and Kanthaka broke into a full gallop.