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The Voice of a Wanderer 


Before my allotted days swiftly get over

A stroll down memory lane and I ponder

ďAh, how did I spend my God-given yearsĒ!

It fills me with grief and evokes new fears.

I know not, how many years more in store

How strange, even then, I take no care.

No mind to fill each moment with meaning

By lovingly seeing, knowing, caring, sharing.

My incessant quest to see great things well done

Drives me to keep many little things undone.

Moments and hours and years are fleeting

May be, as fast as my heart keeps beating.

Whenever Iím struck by a new idea or vision

I feel like a wanderer, resting in a mansion

Bu it seems Iím destined to be a wanderer

Till I reach my homeland, to live forever.


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