The Wanderer’s Soul

A whisper stirs at dawn’s first light,
A yearning deep, a spirit bright.
Beyond the hills, where shadows fall,
The wanderer’s soul heeds freedom’s call.

It sheds its chains of earth and stone,
To tread where ancient winds have blown.
Through forests thick and oceans wide,
It dances free, no path denied.

Beneath the stars of desert skies,
Through cities veiled in bright disguise,
It gathers tales from lips unknown,
Each heartbeat claimed, each story sewn.

A mountain peak, a hidden cave,
A storm that roars, a sea that’s brave.
It learns the secrets rivers sing,
And feels the thunder’s echo ring.

In temples old, where silence dwells,
Amidst the chime of distant bells,
It questions gods in painted halls,
And bows to mysteries that brawl.

A market hums with scents and sound,
The soul is lost, then newly found.
Eyes meet and part, a fleeting role,
A thousand lives within one soul.

Through battlefields where shadows lay,
It weeps for dawns that bled to gray.
Yet, in each ruin, flowers bloom,
New songs arise from dust and gloom.

Time cannot bind its restless feet,
Nor death’s dark veil, nor fate’s deceit.
For even when one journey ends,
Another road, uncharted, bends.

And so it roams, forever free,
Through golden sands and emerald sea.
A traveler bold, who claims the whole—
The endless quest of a wandering soul.