To Grow Is to Roam and Return
This reflective poem explores the
relationship between solitude & exploration — between the quiet of thought &
the stimulation of the world. It argues that true creativity emerges not from
choosing one over the other, but from moving between the two.
Drawing from everyday
observations, philosophical musings, and lived experience, it weaves a journey
from local roots to global awareness, and back into personal expression.
Through its rhythmic structure, the piece emphasizes that growth is conscious,
balance is essential, and life is both a mirror and a window.
It invites the reader to ask: Am
I becoming, or merely repeating? To Grow Is to Roam and Return reminds us that every outward step should
deepen the inward voice.
When is a person most creative — while travelling far or
sitting still?
Both paths shape us deeply, and each gives something real.
Our outings add freshness — we see and hear the world anew.
We step beyond our mental walls into a sky of richer hue.
We sense the vastness, far beyond what quiet minds conceive.
Old beliefs dissolve like clouds — our worldview starts to breathe.
In life, we build mindsets, often fixed in a silent stone.
Unless we're stirred or challenged, we retreat and sit alone.
Yes, we need our silence — a space for peace and breath,
But solitude must still belong to something larger than self.
We connect through daily duties, errands, voices & streets.
In passing conversations, we find where inner and outer meet.
Each one may seem small alone, but together they rise in mass.
We merge and then emerge, each time with something to grasp.
The question of who's right is not one we can hold.
Truth slips with time — even wise words grow old.
We build ideas and theories we think might be true,
But every “fact” is shaped by time’s ever-changing hue.
We travel to new places, where cultures live and breathe,
Where tongues are strange, and customs wear different wreaths.
Gods are made, meals differ, beliefs are shaped by land —
Some are taught not to ask, only to understand.
Suppose we live in Kangra’s hills, where mountains hush the
day.
Our world is shaped by elders, and we walk a narrow way.
We learn what's given, rarely asked to stretch or doubt,
So thoughts remain within, and seldom travel out.
To grow beyond such borders, we must step through the door.
‘Small is beautiful’ holds true, but when tied to something more.
Few are lucky, bold, or stirred enough to leave their comfort zone,
To fling themselves into the wide, uncertain, ever-growing unknown.
Travel still shows fragments — we never grasp the whole.
But even one new broad vision can reshape the soul.
Touching something foreign doesn’t make it ours alone,
But even passing moments plant seeds we might own.
We should see museums, walk in fairs, breathe parks & art.
Watch foreign lands in films, see how other people start.
Some have risen high through learning, love, and care —
They build a world that nurtures all with dignity and air.
Harsher lands exist, and yet many bloom with grace.
They’ve turned nature to wonder, shaped with time & place.
By seeing such, we better know the space where we reside,
And how others strive with dreams that burn inside.
We come from loving parents, yet with limited means &
sight.
So we must reach beyond them, toward broader beams of light.
We build this through our schools, our play, our shared events,
Through tours, exchanges, and programs of deeper intent.
Competitions teach us to rise, to strive from local to wide.
They ask us to prepare, to measure, to rise with pride.
We can't be content while the world moves on its way —
To know our capacity, we must push into the fray.
Yes, some will pull us down with envy, noise, or fear.
But we must break the inertia — apply that needed gear.
Newton’s first law still holds: no move without a shove.
We must push with books & effort, with questions & with love.
The wise remind us gently — we know very little, still.
But through each opened window, we find a deeper will.
Remaining open helps us learn just where we stand,
And how much more we must do with mind and hand.
This world is uneven — some rise while others fall.
Those behind must toil harder to level what we call
A fair & earned respect — through habits sharp & strong,
And faith in work and purpose to carry them along.
As I read about cultures, sciences, literature, &
thought,
I find myself expanding, drawn into a deeper knot.
The world, in bits & pieces, enters through the mind,
And urges me to shift, to leave no growth behind.
The world reshapes my silence — its sights, talks & light.
Though I roam wide, I must return to rest and write.
My mind replays the images, the moments, and the sound —
It weighs, discards, or welcomes all that the day has found.
When I'm alone, and still, and the mind is moved to speak,
I draw what’s stored within, what thought and feeling seek.
Some may sing or draw instead — there's no one right way,
But words remain, and speak again, long after memory’s day.
My meditations form from what the world has shown.
They build within, give judgment, roots to what was grown.
We’re always in formation — more input keeps us bright.
Our outings are those sacred sparks that help us find our light.
Yet balance must be kept — experience must become art.
We must digest what’s gathered and discard the waste.
We cannot only take, but also must use what we consume.
For life is a conscious learning — its flower, thought in bloom.
Pawan Kumar,
27th June, 2025, Friday, Time 8:34 A.M.,
Berhampur (Odisha)
(From my diary, 11th October 2020, Sunday, 4:07 PM, New
Delhi)
