Baggage

I pack myself in two suitcases, not more than 23 kgs each,
wondering from country to country, city to city.
With each passing year, the weight seems heavier,
the roads however are still ceaseless and unclear.

But my eyes glisten to the new wonder of the world,
while I carry my past in those packages that I roll.
There are times when I stop mid-road to glance what lies within the carriers,
the warmth of the lingering hugs can still be felt through the travel blanket.

Like a thought out of place, the white in my hair shine,
like those silver blade, to what may lie ahead.
The intrigue is not dead, to take every day as an adventure
while to see the bigger picture, might need resting of those baggage.

Haven't found any closet that can fill what I bear.
May be one day when the wind brushes though all the silver whites,
I may choose to find a warm corner, a place to rest,
to open what has been withheld,
the wonders of every world seen through these blurred eyes.