She walks the lone road,
Silence stinging her senses
Like a cold wind would sting
Her bare skin,
But the night is still
And dark, and the sky is dark,
Embracing the dainty arch
Of the new born moon,
As though it were created to protect
The moon alone, and nothing below,
And no stars shone
Upon the silence of the night.
She walks past a house masked
By dull peeling white, the smell
Of rust, and autumn in sight
In a garden, brown and bare.
She walks through the night
Till she reaches the end
Of her road, the end of all life,
And peers through the sky above
At the morning light, at the first rays
Of the rising sun.
A new horizon?
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I’m the founder of this award-winning travel blog about offbeat and sustainable travel, and author of the bestselling travel memoir, The Shooting Star.
In 2011, I quit my full-time job, and gradually gave up my home, sold most of my possessions, stored some in the boot of a friend’s car and embraced a nomadic life.
Connect with me on Instagram to hear more about my adventures and personal journey.