Here is a poem that I wrote while traveling through Nepal last year. Sometimes, travel and being an outsider in a new place has the ability to break you down, but just as quickly often builds you back up. I hope you enjoy.
My father’s pen knife, red with purple string
My heart, my head, are unsure of my being.
The tangible and what I love I know aren’t always there
Confusion of a Dharma Bum, but one that’s got short hair.
Tracks trekked far and wide, I’ve looked
for Peace, Love, Tranquility
The harder that I search, it seems
I feel they’re farther away from me.
But I’ll keep going, living this life though it were my last
Always living now and forward, forget about the past.
So I pick up weary feet,
One after the other
I know all strangers that I meet
Are sisters and my brothers.
Simply put, I’m just a man
My purpose plain and true
To live my life as best I can
And finds the rest that do.
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