I look at my feet,
worn from the journey,
the one that started just yet,
I desire new feet,
new footwear maybe,
slowly it dawns,
the foot nor the footwear help see the destination,
they just slow down the journey.
I see people resting all around, some way behind, some way ahead. There are others walking with me. Some are very young, a lot of my age and a few are older. Everyone seems to know that walking is the need. But, yet some people sit, sit in silence and sadness. I realized that I was not walking. No, I was not. I felt I was someone else till now. I could see through someone's eyes as they walked the desert terrain. The feet covered in sand, the throat parched with thirst. I always thought that was me. Covering my face with a damp cloth to keep away from the heat, I thought I walked.
My eyes are now open, I see some people I thought I was. I was not one of them. I sit and watch them walk. telling them if things are falling off them. Help them get up, if they fall. Then I go back and sit on a small mound, I found. I like the mound I guess, and so I might live here forever. Is the battle over? was it all a farce? Can I open my eyes once more to see myself walking? Walking ahead into a land of lush meadows, walking with people, walking ahead of some, behind some, but walking. I see how easy it is to close your eyes and still see what you want to. To see visions of success, happiness and satisfaction. To even taste the sweetness of victory. All without actually doing any.
It is a delirium. Night falls and it rains. People still walk. The people who rest wait for the rain to stop. completely wet, their clothes clinging to them, they tremble as it thunders. People who walk, they do not bother to even respect the sound. It shows, it all shows. It all shows in different acts in life.
It is hard to open eyes, and then open the eyes of the man you really are, the eyes of man you just opened. And there you wonder was walking a better task? was dreaming not? the answers have still not been sent. Maybe a letter will arrive some day telling me the truth. But I do not want to wait. I have sat enough. My legs are fresh. I need to walk,again. As I did once, as I recollect it and relive it as my present within my closed eyes. There I see my self going again. But I need to stop seeing myself going away, or I will never go away. The night gets cold and sleep takes over the body as the mind tries to reason out something. Perhaps, not much.
A small request to take in the world and take in what I am.
This was a way of expressing myself as I see and I wish that people see to it that they keep walking forever in life and it would be a pleasure to know that you are walking whether we are ahead, behind or together.
