Through shifting sands and verdant seas,
A shadow moves with whispered breeze.
The traveler walks, a name unknown,
A fleeting ghost where seeds are sown.
Beneath the stars, on moonlit plains,
Through cities soaked in ancient rains,
They linger briefly, then are gone,
A phantom tread at break of dawn.
The markets hum with tales they leave,
Of wonders spun none could conceive.
A trinket here, a story there,
A fleeting glimpse of secrets rare.
No map can trace their vagrant way,
Nor compass point to where they stay.
From frozen peaks to desert wide,
Their heart holds truths they never confide.
Each face they meet, a fleeting spark,
Each fleeting day, a shifting arc.
Yet whispers follow where they tread,
A nameless tune in every head.
Do they chase dreams, or flee the past?
What fuels their steps so wild, so fast?
The answer lies in veils so thin—
The world their home, its soul their kin.
And when the world has sung its song,
The traveler moves still further on.
An enigma wrapped in twilight’s glow,
A wandering soul none truly know.
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