Found this old poem by myself while organizing my files

The traveller presses his folded clothes

Into the bright red travelling bag,

Over the laughter and banter,

As friends race to see who's the fastest

In finishing the pack up.

The traveller looks outside the window

At the countless stars glittering,

Some of them decorated in constellations,

Some of them streaked like a galaxy,

Scattered throughout the bluish black night sky.

The traveller sets out for the long journey

The next morning with his friends,

Plump bags slung over their shoulders,

Filled with ambition and youthful energy,

Trekking on the uncharted journey.

Eight years and many losses later,

On a cold dark night filled with silence,

The traveller reaches the destination,

With his faded torn travelling bag,

With scars on his limbs and without company.

The exhausted traveller lays down on the

Hard ground and looks up at the dull black night sky

Empty except for a lone white star,

And reflected on the hardships

He had gone through on the long journey.

The traveller comes to a realization

That he was the only one in the group

Who had learned from those hardships,

While others had ignored the fruit of lessons

Waiting to be devoured.

That long journey, the traveller mused,

Is, of course, called- Life.