The Vanishing Paths
In the quiet, amidst the echo of footsteps unmade, the paths lie empty.
Empty as they might have been, had they been taken, had they been followed.
Stories of travelers weave in and out, lost to the whispers of the wind.
Each step was a choice, each direction a narrative unwritten.
They chose to turn left, right remained an unwritten story.
Unwritten because of choices, unwritten due to decisions.
The decision to not decide is still a decision, yet individuals seem unaware.
Followed by shadows, the footprints disappear.
Vanishing as quickly as they were formed, leaving no mark,
yet still leaving. Leaving their absence in the sands of time.
Absence is a form of presence, presence in the narrative.
Presence in the account of those that report, account of those that narrate.