Steps

Let me talk now to my steps. 

The lucky ones close to my voice but also to the old ones who struggled to help me. To the future ones who beg me to be taken. 

To those fast and close together hanging out with my sweat. To the drunk slow ones making irrational lines next to yours.

The first one with my dad's exultation.

The last one with my daughter's tear?

Let me stop and wait and speak, 

for they won't. They just count.

Existing or oblivious, from zero to plus one.

Firmly planted, to draggingly aloof.

I'll tell them of my fear for their actions. I'll show gratitude for where they got me. I'll show hate for where they got me away from. I'll tell them the only non-changing thing in life is change itself. Inform them of their pain. Ask for forgiveness since I'm resisting them. Never promise them a thing. Because a promise is, taking things for granted. And they don't understand stillness. 

Their life means motion.

So I'll take them on my journeys.

One thousand of them at a time. 

One by one.

Till the last one.

Next to those of others. 

So they'll have company. 

Next to yours, whoever you are.

Whoever you've become.

Wherever your own steps took you.