The Grand Adventure,
has me soaked in words,
drenched in timely mistakes,
unfamiliar rotations,
life is like a bottle of Sriracha,
sweet and spicy,
as the next page turns,
my notebook swells,
in melancholy,
a morose tone,
Poe would be proud,
as the lenses tire of black and white,
seeking color,
an adventurer’s gear,
saddled upon one’s willing back,
stepping on many soils,
of many countries,
not in dreams,
or speculation,
but in practice,
in patience,
in peace,
the grand adventure begins.
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