Footprints
I breathe out the dirt and filth that inhabits my body, and look up onto the grey mist of clouds.
The horizon in my eye-line, where grey blends with glimpses of blue sky.
The world trapped inside its own cage of fog and rain; me along with it.
We walk in a line; one by one.
Walking an ever-fixed path.
The city and its confinements. Its limitations. Not exceeding our imagination.
The trees rustle with the wind. The wind that carries us along. A song in our hearts.
There in the crowd I see another; one who walks alone.
The footprints of my life have yet to be taken. Yet to be known.
So I too walk alone, as I decide where I go.