I am a wanderer. I am a ripple in an ocean, a blade of grass in field. I’m a piece of dust on an old book, the center of only my own poem. My talents are a fleck of gold in the eye of this world. My beauty is a lost image in your peripheral vision. My likes, loves, and hates are something you probably wouldn’t care to notice. I am a wanderer hoping that one day I will find a place that I am noticed and maybe even appreciated for what I am, even if I am not much. And maybe while I’m there I’ll find a wanderer like me, who realizes the pain of my journey that took me to get there.