Can’t remember how many times I’ve been to the Borders

Just to find the faintest clue of life

Can’t recall the foot prints

Which may copy the stitches of joints of carpets

Yet, the clear sound echoes

Whenever I cross the Borders of culture

The world is flat and the dream surrounds exactly the mind and reality

The itch for the uncertainty

Questing for the meaning of the category

The joy of the lookouts

May overcome the borders of age

Whether you’re 9 or 90

A hint of life may certainly appeal to the child in every one of you

And take you on a journey of re-discovery……