The Traveler

He wanders lonely
Like a balloon with no strings attached.
What a shame that nobody
Even cared to ask,
“Where have you been?”

From mountains to seas
They all look the same-
Like silhouettes on glass ceilings
All form and fabric
Lose their meaning and merge into one.

As much as he loves to be alone
He loves to take in the world
One drop at a time.
The grains of sand remind him
That he is not the only one
Who feels insignificant.

From London to Colombia
He travels in search of an answer to
A single question.
Who in the world
Is he?

The Traveler

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