The Footprints We Leave

Life whispers past the wind-swept dunes, each grain a memory, each shadow a moment imprinted. I walked and saw them—tiny impressions, reminders of a route taken but oft unspoken.

In the quiet of the early morning, when the world sits still and glassy-eyed, I trace these patterns. No telling if they belong to me or another soul; they are neither fresh nor worn, simply there, waiting.

"Why are we here, really?" a voice echoes from within. There’s no one else, just me and the endless stretch of sand. I fold the question, store it in the pocket of my mind alongside other unanswerables.

Whispers in the Wind - I hear stories only the sea understands, murmurs tangled in the surf. They speak of distant shores and truths buried deep beneath the surface.

Every step becomes a concession, a gesture towards permanence in a transient world. Somewhere, there’s a path forming, not mine, but shared.

Stories in the Sand - These fragments might outlast us, etchings of lives colliding, if only for a while, before the tide washes all away.

The question lingers: do we track our footprints or follow those left by others? Each choice branches into a maze of possibilities, directions unknown.

Reflections on Paths - Sometimes the most meaningful journeys are those we never intended to take, leading us to places unexpected.