"The Way We Walk and The Things That Break Us" by Lou FSteady on the grounds, your feet they find me; you are walking. But will you walk forever? Content,
you will not stop, you are not searching, you do not seek, but find me anyway. If you find me, you will not stop. But if the path ends, do you end with it? The trunks of trees begin their branching, all things must start with another. A stick and a tree are not the same, yet, in a way, are similar enough that they might be. So, if the path bends, do you bend with it? Legs are burning and the feet that found me ache; lungs work in the dead of a fervent night. There is a hill to climb, the path climbs, you climb with it. But if the path falls into the sky and splits the sun in two, would you fall with it? Is it you that splits the sun? Wobble, wobble; I find you when the sun comes. Your long journey; yes, everything must start with another, and all things must end. Are you the path that you walk on? If not before are you now? If I asked you, would you know? My feet become yours, and your feet, at my hips. Have you now become me or are you still walking? Gravel slides beneath soles of rubber, we slide with it. Down, down; and now to these trees again. One is fallen. The path has ruptured its spleen. If the path breaks into pieces, do you break with it? And if you broke, would I break the same?
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