When he first left the rotten
door of his youth
the sounds of his people becoming
more and more distant
the pilgrim was, among other
emotions, uncertain but proud
Through a forest of thought
and across the murky waters
of a doubt, he made his way
Until he came to the land
of his new people, faces unlike
his and swinging arms hanging
low, a tree to tree populace
Who offered him kindness
and were returned with regret.
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