Why do we travel?

Why do you travel?
Yes, I travel.
To follow the echo,
Of millions of souls I pass by.

To find new paths.
The scent of the fresh grass calls me every time.
Then the north wind whispers.
The sunshine pleads to cross roads,
And deviate.

To follow the flock of birds,
Here and there.
Flutter by. Changing directions.
To follow the rainbow hues.
To reach great places. Sometimes cramped holes.
To get drenched. Or blown away.
To get welcomed, hugged. Or swayed away by nasty faces.

To make friends. Loads of friends, believe me.
To make them feel good. Feel good about themselves.
Called the favorite part of my journey.
Festivities and grandeur.
Pray together, laugh together.

Beautiful memories, grand feasts, gaily dances.
Weaving together, the tapestry of life.
Painting together, the kaleidoscope of sky.
Creating harmonious symphonies,
We leave our shadows behind.

And then there are good-byes.
The part we can’t omit.
But we promise to meet again.
Somewhere. Some place under a different shade.

So, to travel to find the self.
To travel to find my soul.
To travel, because we are searching for a place that makes one feel home.
To believe, one day I’ll find a place,
A place which is worth calling home.
That day I’ll stop. No more travel. Promise.

Yes, I travel.
I get lost.
Yet, I travel.

We all do, on this face of earth.
If not as a poet, then as a poem.

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