The traveler moves into everyday
As he has trodden into every new world.
He has no name, yet finds rest wherever
Still can be found.
He has no family, yet finds company
In any earnest conversation.
When it’s time to move, he goes.
When it’s time to stop, he beds down.
For the traveler there is no routine
In any land he looks strange,
He wears the clothes of the world.
His bags are heavy, but the weight of
The world remains below his feet
Where he wanders across it.
At night he closes his eyes in different beds,
But in sleep he enters familiar dreams.
The traveler belongs to no single nation,
He belongs to them all.
The traveler has an everlasting family,
He is the brother of every man.
He is never lost,
He finds his place
Waiting in every undiscovered land.