From dawn’s first blush to twilight’s bend,
A seeker bound by neither place,
Nor tethered to one fleeting face.
The stars above, my timeless guide,
The oceans vast, my restless tide,
The mountains whisper, winds reply,
To footsteps tracing earth and sky.
I drink from springs of joy and pain,
Through desert heat and monsoon rain,
Each mile a verse, each halt a rhyme,
Etched on the scroll of endless time.
No home, and yet the world is mine,
In every heart, a sacred shrine,
For journeys weave what maps conceal—
The roads that teach, the wounds that heal.
And though horizons fade to shade,
My spirit walks, unbound, unswayed;
For what I am, I shall not cease—
An eternal musafir, in search of peace.
Would you prefer me to render this poem in a more mystical, Sufi-inspired tone, or keep it in this reflective-philosophical style?
