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Footprints

A footprint.

Simple,
in the sand.
Nothing we have not seen before.
Just a shape we know.

They say that our fingerprints don’t fade
from the lives we have touched,
but what about our footprints?

What we stomp on,
what we tread over,
what we kick in anger,
inevitably makes us what we are.

How many people have stood in the exact same place as you have?
We pride ourselves on being unique,
but so many others have already stood in our shoes.

So this is the human condition:
the desire to follow the road less traveled,
or at least to say that we have tried.

Meanwhile, we are taught to blend in;
taught to hide any trace of individuality;
trained to cover up the very tracks
we thought we were supposed to so painstakingly put down.

The eternal Catch 22.

But if it is so that we must live this way,
I hope I can fill shoes as big as yours
and follow your footprints in the sand.





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