Harbinger

Have you seen god?

I have.

Every time I smelt literature,

I touched, felt and breathed in divinity.

In a world, where two mortals can't bring their hearts to express their autumns

And springs and sing its songs.

I have seen the ink fall in love with the paper.

Ain't it a miracle? Heavenly?

Have you seen god? 

I have.

When an infant sun smiles through the sky's womb,

I've seen Him smiling too.

I am a young traveler and traveling has been my age-old religion.

When I say I have been a traveler, I don't necessarily mean the mountains.

I have traveled, 

Even to my bathroom!

I have even traveled,

To the market.

To me, it always has been a state of mind,

Where the wind kisses my bohemia.

I have traveled in heartbreaks, births, funerals, kingdoms, voids, silhouettes and infinity.

Sooner or later, I will be on your doorsteps, extending my feverish imagination

And I will see you hurrying down your December woods.

Then, we may pretend to be the grass and let the dew decorate us.

Once, it's morning, I might draw a farewell.

Do not ask me to stay. I will not. I am a traveler.

Unless I walk out of your story,

I will not be able to walk into another story.

Behold my essence, for we shall meet again.

We'll meet again in twilight and verses.

I, a writer and you, my reader.

In poetries, we shall forever travel.