Wanderer

On the highest mountain

trying to reach

the air of sun in coldest summer.

Teardrops are my waterfalls

with an inventible illusion-

Daydreaming and hope…

Are we or are we not

creatures wasting our precious life,

stepping on already known deserts

drowning into the everyday melancholia,

without a moment of today or a memory from yesterday.

In a search for the voice within

ignoring the freedom above me

I keep on being wanderer through eternity.

The air is cold

but I am looking for something warm.

Closer to my thoughts to find the words

To find the light 

To find a passion for life.