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Just A Visitor






 My life is a hotel room, rented by the night,

A temporary refuge from the dark of light.

I unpack my bags, but never truly stay,

In the morning, I'll be gone, and the room will be gray.


I'm a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the code,

A momentary malfunction, soon to be overrode.

I'm a drop of water in the ocean's roar,

A tiny, insignificant speck, lost forever.


But what a cruel joke, to be a visitor to this place,

To be given a key, but not a permanent space.

To be allowed to taste, but not to savor,

To be given a glimpse, but not to truly favor.


I'm a tourist in a foreign land, with a map that's incomplete,

A wanderer without a compass, lost in the streets.

I'm searching for a home, but it's always out of sight,

A will-o'-the-wisp, that beckons me, but leads me to the night.


And yet, I'm grateful for this brief, shining stay,

This momentary reprieve, from the darkness of the way.

For though I'm just a visitor, I've seen the beauty of this place,

And though I'll soon be gone, I'll carry it with me, in this fragile, human space.

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