Photo: “Path In The Woods”, by George Hodan
My steps leave marks on the dirt I walk upon,
Next to so many others,
Big and small marks,
I wonder whose stories were or are these….
Drums’ cadence, silent and loud,
Dictate the rhythm of the live orchestra.
Planning, grinding, gripping,
Life in an orderly fashion,
As the clock keeps ticking: time for this, time for that.
I dared to let myself stumble,
That’s when I’ve fallen “out of step” and crashed into the arms of unfelt emotions.
I feared that without the cadence of drums I had no idea of who I am,
But I couldn’t let their sound pierce my soul anymore,
And dance me into the oblivion.
It became a question if I would stay fearful or not.
Tear after tear, I cried my way out to freedom.
Unraveled, I threw myself into the sea of unplanned knowledge,
I might be arranging the chairs on the deck of the Titanic,
Or I might be sailing on a little ship under a beautiful blue sky.
Everyday I walk my own path…..
My steps leave marks next to others,
Big and small,
I smile and wonder whose stories were or are these….
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