Wanderlost

No one is lost if one knows what is wander

Sweaty palms and clanking noises.

Out of breath, feet walking in eternity.

Some blurred familiar signs.

Faint lights under a starry night sky.

Where am I?

Smoke and dusty wind,

Car horns mixing sprint

Convenience store doors whipped

Convinced this is a post-pandemic hit.

I know where I am but I am lost as well.

These are certainly uncertain footsteps

Due to unfamiliarity

Or something inside my head?

Insecurity? Maybe another cup of tea?

For a minute there,

I lost myself.

Letting the being wander

I wonder

If this is what it feels to be out again.

Maybe

no one is lost if one knows what is ‘wander’.

Will we be brave enough to conquer?