.

Looking towards the East, land of the rising sun,

I try to remember where I could have begun…

I imagine myself twisting word into pun

And, with a newborn’s heart, strolling this land of fun;

I reflect on those days of careful innocence

And contemplate the ways, the long ways I have come,

It feels quite like I near a haven in a sense,

Like I’m turning into whom I wished to become?

Now it is not to say that I feel I am done,

There exists challenges which have yet to be won,

Poetry shall remain the barrel of my gun

But I am not walking anymore. No, I run!

.

      Hour 6.