As traveller I find
the ******* called time
only provides a blurry mime
of moments rich as wine.

I visited the dark corners
and opened ****** doors
where only lost ones you could find
bleeding out on broken floors.

But then again I've seen the warmth
on my skin like a healing balm
made of kisses by the sun,
closing wounds and glowing hearts.

There ain't no road with just one end
for where you came from
from exit to entrance it can bend.