Travelling is almost like talking with those of other centuries.
Travelling is like speaking
with souls of old,
Whispers from times long past,
stories untold.
In far-off lands, we find
familiar tales,
Of love, loss, joy, and
heartbreak, without fail.
The roads we wander, the paths
we choose,
Lead us to secrets, hidden in
ancient muse.
Each step we take, each breath
we draw,
Connects us to lives that once
were law.
Through mountains high and
valleys low,
We hear the whispers of our
ancestors’ flow.
They guide us on our journey
through time,
And show us truths that only
they can divine.
In every land we visit, we
find,
A piece of history, entwined
with kind.
The sights we see, the people
we meet,
Are threads in tapestries, so
intricate and sweet.
So let us travel, let us roam,
For in each place, we find a
home.
Wherever we go, we carry
within,
The echoes of those who lived
before, and kin.
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