The Traveller




A full moon stares down onto a traveller as he wanders the earth from town to town. He stops and stares back for seconds whenever he feels lost. The earth rotates, days come and days pass by, mornings follow evenings, seasons alternate and the journey resumes. A never ending road to an unknown destination and he strolls along full of mixed feelings. Everything is temporary and the end is only the beginning. Pages turn, buildings crumble down to the ground, people leave, love fades and we fall to rise and tumble to learn the definition of steadiness. An uncertainty preoccupies him. His steps unsure, his heart in doubt, his mind foggy but he keeps going. His downward gaze causes him to miss how beautiful the sun looks as it sets. He refuses to look at the horizon during the day as if maintaining chastity and staying true to the moon.  One night, and as the night sets in with cruel cold, he loses sight. It's pitch black, vast, and silent in a deafening manner. For the first time in years he slows his steps to an awaited halt. All guards down he lets his tears drench his face. The moon is no longer looking and he can no longer keep pretending like he is ok. His tears are warm against his cheeks and he is numb amidst the surrounding cool atmosphere because of the fire that burns deep down within. He realizes his worth and realizes that even the moon had passed him by. When everything boils down to a moment of truth, he was left in vacuum, a suffocating empty space. His spirit was nevertheless lifted. After all, you can only gather what remains and fly after breaking on your way to the bottom. Some say he was saved by angels, others say a spell was cast on him, but in reality, there is no  teacher better than sour experience. He learned the hard way, the good old way that all things in life are to be taken lightly. No one makes it out alive. He learned that he was enough and he learned not to regret being who he was or how the moon made him feel about himself. The next day rays of sun pierced into his soul through his eyes. They were brighter than ever and felt warmer than ever. He closed his eyes for a minute taking it all in. The gift of life, as impossible as it may be, is about enjoying simple matters and paying attention to fine detail. He smiled vulnerably, brushed his hair to the side, took in another volume of air into his lungs and started walking. This time a bit steadier, a little more confident, and with an extra dollop of pride. Strength is born the day you welcome pain with arms wide open. Pain tunes out fear when you let it out the right vent. Pain became his best friend and he held it close to his heart and before his eyes. The awaited evening set once again without a moon and so for a week. By now the traveller was onto a sprint. He ran for as long as his body could keep up. His soul was too fast for his human being. He kept going, avoiding the moon and it's distracting light. The moon was no longer complete yet it was still as beautiful as ever. The sun's scorching heat was his soothing savior every morning until the day he met you. Nothing could save him now, nothing but pain. He has grown older and wiser over the years.  He knows what this is, where it is going, and how it ends. With arms wide open, once again, he stands in a welcoming reception. You are the one thing he cannot escape, you are the hurricane in a storm of memories, you are another ace of spades dealt to him by fate, another painful blessing. He shakes his head in disbelief and stares into your eyes seeing a future he can swear he could almost touch, the mirage that'll leave him thirsty after a decade of drought. As once before and as always, welcome.

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