Beneath the hush of dawn’s first sigh,
A soul took wing to kiss the sky.
No roots to bind, no name to claim,
It wandered far through wind and flame.
It danced with stars in desert night,
And whispered truths to peaks of white.
In every town and silent glen,
It lived a thousand lives—and then,
It traced the rivers, wild and wide,
Where fishermen and secrets hide.
It bowed to temples old with grace,
And wore each moment like a face.
It rode on songs in foreign tongues,
And wept where lullabies were sung.
It drank the joy of village wine,
And knelt before the sacred shrine.
It slept in fields where poppies grow,
And chased the footprints lost in snow.
It kissed the dusk on oceans’ foam,
And called each sunrise “I am home.”
Though never still, it carried deep
A quiet fire it could not keep—
A yearning not for where or when,
But just to move, and be, again.
For some are born with hearts unchained,
By border, name, or love retained.
They travel not to run, but find—
The world’s reflection in their mind.
So if you meet one on the way,
Who smiles like dawn and fades like day—
Know you have met, in part or whole,
The echo of a traveling soul.
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