middleeasternpoetry: God, did not see the tears of the traveler. He did not become attached. He did
middleeasternpoetry: God, did not see the tears of the traveler. He did not become attached. He did not have to break free. Man built the road, to get away from home, to reach exile. The road is calling out my name… it tells me… today is the day to break free… A small backpack full of memories on my trembling shoulders. From all the good and bad people, from all that happy and sorrowful tales, what has remained for me but memories? A vague image in the speck of dust on the window. The road has put out its arms… waiting for me… I am singing the bitter story of goodbye even though my lips are closed. To leave behind all memories. All the love. All the attachment. It’s hard but I have no choice. -- source link