A Little Poem to all the Travellers

Photo by:  Vladimir Kudinov

Travellers are lone spirits,
escapists,
living in the wrong spaces.
They are not happy, when they sit the fuck up in the same place forever with a heave of ancestral guilt.
They are nomads, even when they are idle.
They feel fear, but move on anyway, for that’s the only way for them to reclaim their life.
Life shattered by monotone routines of the known pastures,
I sit here, but my mind wander off.
In search of other souls moving afar on similar wave-thoughts.
With the last breath of strength left, I would sneak away too.
Into the voyages of miles apart…

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