The Walk

A metaphor for life. Not everyone can survive this trek.

I pace to the town again,
foot behind foot then.
I try to blend with the stars,
Still they spot me and scream at my scars.

How do I walk, I forgot again,
One foot forward, the other then?
I want to melt into the ground,
But my dripping blood ensures that I'm found.

I am broken they insist.
No good whatsoever, they persist.
I try to hobble away in disgust,
But I fall again; smile again, I must.

My knees buckle, my legs give way,
How do I walk again? I wonder in dismay.
The shrill underbrush and the Silent Tree,
stand still as stone and yet are free.

Yet I, a creature born to roam,
feel trapped even without the 'home'.
I am supposed to move,
I think I've lost my groove.

My feet have forgotten,
My tendons and sinew have rotten.
How do I walk? I wonder in tears.
Surrounded I am with all my fears.

My hopes have run and dreams have left,
Yet standing stock still is all I'm adept at.
The fickle stream glides ever the more,
winding and twisting to the ocean shore.

The winds that blow as the mountain gale,
Blow to the heavens without fail.
But here I am, crawling to the tree,
I have forgotten how to walk, How can I be free?