I find myself in a place where paths cross.
Invisible overlapping lines
Made by suitcase wheels and feet.
Aimless wanderings as we all
Peruse duty free offerings
That none of us need but find we buy.
I stand at the edge of this trip.
Mostly I am afraid of failure.
It has been a long time coming.
My aim is to find my father.
A kind of time travel if you will.
Does he know I’m coming?
It is a sad thing to be lost.
Perhaps I will also find myself?
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