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!