A Traveler

a poem

My travels bring the beauty,

and magic is its path,

where rivers rise from deserts,

dry impotence there, reborn.

 

I leave before nightfall.

Behind me mountains break.

I rise into sunsets, blindly,

chasing my youth and birth.

 

The potent stone behind me,

I ride the waters of ages.

Sailing into father’s yesterdays,

whose temporary hearts bore sorrows.

 

I am the traveler, ever and ever.

Dust and star light, my brethren,

from cold, gray stones silent rung,

to orange stars alight with song.

 

I am the traveler, whose lips brush the moon.

I am the traveler, blinded by stars.

I am the traveler, unbound and stripped.

I am the traveler, my body a universe. 

The End

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