Posted: June 30, 2014 in Poetic Paths
Tags: , , , ,

His wine is the distance between each place,

The miles and metres intoxicate.

As he draws closer to where he desires,

He drowns in heightened mind-state.

For time was no barrier as he made his way,

It pleased to see light fall and fade.

Under night, stars and moon, fear lit many fires,

When city lights couldn’t reach his place.

Specks dot the sky and even landscape,

In majestic view too grand to take.

The dark brings with it many liars,

But he need not worry in his silent state.

Destination is destiny each time he reaches

Out beyond static man’s releases.

In a new alley under new cardboard sheets,

Our traveller finds a foreign land to sleep.

The Traveller

The Traveller

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