When it’s spring on the ocean
The wind is clear and warm
And the campers pull in
To wait out summer storms.
And one of them spends time
As he spends his time in Egypt
Making flutes of bamboo
To find his living in it.

He seems to be immune
To states and times and towns.
Whatever is his story
He's glad he's still around.
And when the campers waken
To sniff the fog of dawn
The ocean will still be there
But the flute man will be gone.

Gone to seek his being
Where no man is alone
Where no one rubs his shoulder
And each soul is his own.
You know he's glad he met you
But he is moving on.
He leaves the waves behind him
But the flute man has moved on.

From the last life we were like this,
so meeting you here and now we're just reuniting.
Trying to remember all that we forgotten.
Did love stay fresh, or did it go rotten?

I guess only time will tell.
From the first time we met, I felt I already knew you so well.

I just hope even when we ain't in heaven, you'll still stand by my side through hell.

Who were we?

Watch for the travelers that carry no marks. Some may wear their journey through ink, others through the mark of the blade or the tool. But those that have neither, yet cross the lands as if they were wading through water.

They may carry their marks inside.

Where they can stretch the skies and fill the oceans, without ever being seen. Those are the travelers to watch for, not the ones with letters or pictures adorning them, but the ones who are marked only by their dreams.

We travelers don't simply visit a place
We roam and rave, and lose ourselves,
whether in between alleys or cedar trees

Or waves, and we never stop running into
the tides that crash into
us, breaking all we ever covered
ourselves, all we ever hid behind.

No, we travelers don't sleep in white sheets. We
lay naked under the stars. Only under cold breezes
will we close our eyes, resting from the sights
that shine so bright they sore us.
And even then, we will listen
and we will dream.

We travelers don't fall in love to be in love
We let our hearts open for no other reason
than genuine awe of another being
who may or may not reciprocate our feelings, so
we'll laugh and cry bittersweet tears and smiles
until either nothing, or everything is what's
left.

Set out on a journey
Didn't matter where
Through the deepest darkest path
Never getting there
Seeking destination
Scrambling toward the prize
Barely realizing
It was right before my eyes
Running for the people
Waiting for applause
When I should be striving
For a greater cause
You see if you chase after life
To obtain the little things
You miss the love and happiness
That life always brings

To the man in the hat on the side of the road, tell me dear sir how far did u go?
Where do u come from?
what is your name?
Tell me dear sir what was your aim?
You say your aim was freedom and that you flew too close to the sun.
it doesn't even matter where anybody comes from.
As for your name you say it is not one to boast, for it is too common, my name young traveler, sadly,  is hope.

All cars flow down the same mainstream of the expressway,
And meet for a while, traveling the same road.
They ride side by side touching for a brief span of time, being under one  fellowship.

Then the expressway divides and fellow travelers go their own ways, never having met but yet together.
They divide never to see each other again or meet and yet they have touched each others' lives.

And also they were once under one divine hand with the same pre-determined destination.
Now they part and go different ways, yet they are still protected by one hand.

My thoughts are weary travelers
Waiting for the safe haven
Of the blank pages
Where ink rejuvenates them to life
As memoirs for other travelers

Applauds and Likes is a humbling experience
Poets and friends make a community thrive
Bustling with encouragement and fresh poems
Reading poems has been an eye-opener
Place where Muses visit regularly
It’s a cohesive bond created by strands of each lines
Written by all the remarkable poets and scholars
I reach out to each one of you, with a humble poem
And express my appreciation, for the reads and comments