A brand new road turns up every year
I travel with hopes of losing last year’s fear
The surroundings are familiar, though some landmarks have shifted
It feels some heavy burdens, at this turn, have been lifted
I travel with less baggage, feel lighter than before
I haven’t lost my longing, my desire to explore
The sun hits the pavement, in this moment I can’t see
That which lays before me is bathed in mystery.
Poetry, Tricia Schwaba
Sketch, Elliott From