Footsteps

-For those who live in cruel cycles,  step upon step-

There are traces of feet,

Ditches made in the golden sand,

Curves from the sides,

Flattened sand, these feet have walked upon,

And we follow them,

 

Through history, through eras,

We have followed those before us,

Relinquishing the strongholds,

Of the wars past,

 

We have stepped, left steps, gave steps and took steps,

But, we never dream of those who walk the same burdened path,

Day after day after day,

Stuck in the same cycle,

Walking the same steps,

Through the steps of their ancestors,

Their pain is lost,

To the  cycle,

Until renewed by the footsteps of their children.

Generally, hard.

It’s hard to change something that is stuck,

Written in my memory,

Embedded in my habits,

Do you expect me to conform to a standard,

I have no heart for?

I try,

You just never see it,

I look wandering and somewhere else,

When I’m working to help other’s ,

You think this happened,

When it really did not,

I can’t expect you to know that,

Because you don’t know,

It’s just generally hard,

To be something else,

To go back a few steps,

When you’re there far beyond,

I don’t even know why I bother.

Poetry

Words.

Black text across white screens.

Lines and stanzas.

Verses of prose.

Colours painted by a single coloured pen.

Dreams created by the poet.

Kaelum Poulson’s The Crow.

Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.

The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol.

Paradise Lost by John Milton.

All grand poems.

Written from the heart.

A strong art.

Poetry is nearly universal.

Almost.