Achtsame Meilen

We pack up light, the world feels wide. Our steps mean

more when we don't hide. It's not the speed, it's where we

steer. Travel slow, the way is clear. I saw the

clouds above the sea. Planes drew their lines, so endlessly.

And somewhere in that smoky hue. My wanderlust just faded too. Then came a

train, a bike, a breeze. The road was kind,

the pace at ease. I breathe it in, the goals are

far. But I've got time, that's who we are.