I left Budapest, Hungary, for the last time on my trip. It had been my home base during the last 6 months, and I had returned just about every couple of weeks. It had become a city I knew and understood. It was a city I had developed a great connection to. I had to say my goodbye so that I could peacefully leave without regrets and a heavy heart. I climbed up ontop of the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings in Buda, and sat there for a few hours just watching the city. Before I came down I wrote this goodbye poem.
A view from above and the city opens up,
a place familiar, though I don't know enough.
A view into the lives, a view which I have seen,
A view I've been a part of, a view inside of me.
Reflections on the Great Divide, only disturbed by the wind,
I see myself and the Great Blue Sky the sun is setting in,
So I turn around for one last glimpse, and I feel it in my bones:
"This is not the last time." And I make my way home, from home.
I love this. I love how I can read this and recall you just as you were the last time I saw you. A time of much turbulence. I don't now how you are now, and even where you are, but I'm blessed to be able to visit at least some of you.
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