ALSphere Foundation
Whose feet know nought of hearth or bounded land?
Thy shadow drifts, as fleeting as a song,
Upon the hills, across the desert’s sand.
What compass holds thy heart, what tethered creed?
No root can claim thee, yet thy soul takes seed.
Beneath the wide, unyielding dome of stars,
Thy bed is drawn from earth’s eternal breast;
The sky thy roof, the moon thy silvered scars,
And every dawn a call to seek the west.
What dreams unfurl within thy boundless mind?
Of treasures sought or places left behind?
The rivers whisper secrets as they flow,
The mountains call, their voices are vast and deep.
Thy path unwinds where earthly wonders grow,
Yet in thy chest, a solitude does keep.
For freedom bears a price that none can see—
The ache of roots denied, of home unfree.
Yet, Nomad, thou art kin to fleeting winds,
To wayward tides and clouds that ever roam.
The world, thy frame, through which thy spirit spins,
And every moment builds thy boundless home.
So carry on, through tempest, dusk, and gleam,
Forever chasing life, forever dream.
