I wonder how will I go around the world.
The world that is incribed on the base of my thoughts and my feelings.
Then I remind myself the time ,I didn’t even know how to pick up a pen.
I make myself recall all those times ,I fell of the bicycle .
still didn’t give up on riding it.
Because that bicycle had the power of taking me where I wanted to.
That sense of liberty ,being free as a bird still fills me up with immense happiness.
So does my pen.
So my dear pen I won’t give up on you ,even if you want me to .
Because you are the one who takes me through all untravelled road,those left out lanes,those moments I couldn’t live and give me the stories I couldn’t make.
So even if sometimes right word won’t pick us .
You and I will find a story and weave it together.