arqios

it walks, not me

I trace the past—as it walks,

not me; through quiet light,

thin as dusk, each step

dissolves before I see,

then leaves the earth

without any to trust.

Through quiet light,

thin as dusk, I follow

paths once called my own,

footprints vanish in dust,

a history in muted tone.

I follow paths once called my own,

they lead and linger, turn and fade,

I trace the past—it walks, not me,

its weight unseen but always laid.

They lead and linger, turn and fade,

then leaves the earth

without any to trust,

a step dissolves before I see,

I trace the past—it walks, not me.