My Poetry. The Lens and the Landmark.

The world is a gallery, wide and uncurbed,
Where the stillness of stone is left undisturbed.
We follow the maps to the heart of the square,
To breathe in the history held in the air.

Through lenses and shutters, we capture the light,
The tilt of a spire, the bridge in its flight.
From the heights of the plazas to the depths of the lane,
There’s a story in moss and a song in the rain.

The pavement is worn by a thousand-year stride,
With secrets that only the shadows can hide.
We gaze at the ruins, the glass, and the steel,
Seeking the pulse of the ancient and real.

But the soul of the journey isn't just in the view,
Or the dust on our boots from a path that is new.
It’s the way the world opens, then settles within,
When the end of the road is where wonders begin.