My words are like ink,
staining pages I've yet to use.

My words are like the dawning stillness,
before the heavy rain falls.

My words are like silk,
touching skins of loved ones and strangers alike.

My words don't always match and smoothly flow.

Sometimes they are jaded and petty,
other times they are deep and precise.

But my words, oh my words are all of me,
inside and out.

I like to travel like how one falls in love;
To feel everything deeply and cherish moments,
To understand what is foreign and appreciate its beauty-  
consumed by emotions all at once, and still be brave enough to explore...
For after all, travel and love are both deep forms of art.