I roamed the docks of the old land, searching for a pram

that would save my pride and property

from the flood coming to shore

When a stranger came up to me

and pointed at the arrows

that marked my arms from wrist to mouth

and asked me

why I clenched

to such sad convictions?

Then I visited the desert of my own evicted landscapes

and saw that emptiness

was just a shadow that kept the sun from blinding me

and I followed the rail of destiny

until I no longer believed in it

and folded my map

into a complex paper-sculpture

that would leave my hands stained

with ink, forever

I climbed the hills of San Francisco

looking for poetry that were to be mine

looking for truths that were to be questioned

and I met the ghost of Allen Ginsberg

who kissed my feet with a smirky grin

and told me to give up preferences

I found the streets of Copenhagen

through the smell of rainwashed concrete

running, as my body raptured in a 100 different ways

And I saw the shattered frames of ideologies

floating as driftwood on the old canals

passing pillars made of ancient clay

that used to carry churches and lighthouses

I danced through corridors of enthusiastic crowds

and you wrapped me in your arms

when I curled up naked

joyful but fearful

of how fragile this can be

Be curious, you say

be brave and humble

and I cannot tell if you are whispering or shouting

but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!

'cause your voice is tender with transformation

crisp with courage

and clear with compassion

and I trust the eyes of the honest

the traveller with wings

and bleeding feet

I will cherish the vulnerable,

the courageously irrational

and keep it with dignity as a scarab on my chest

We have joined the caravan of hope

bathing in the ponds that will lead us to the sea

eventually, making symphonies

as crickets in the grassland

turning no-mans land

into unity bands

when we sing, in the choir, of change