Footmarks

 

Strolling down the streets has turned a habit. New faces carrying distinct story behind them swivels across me. I tend to escape, I tend not to allude.  I wander to fetch something that I lost long way back. Last road bend and the diversion had already behaved strangely. It deluded me to a secluded traversal path that even the demon didn’t bother to sculpture on anyone's fortuned engravings.

I am searching if my story intersects somewhere with someone’s. Someone’s strange might mingle with stranger mine and we would wander together, in the lonesome streets; sometimes greener and sometimes derelict. Footprints and scribbling on the rocks give me power to move on. For I know through them, that someone made their way through it. Did they succeed? I shall walk till the finals to know if their exists scribbling on some rocks there too.

I will throw some initials. I will leave impressions on trunks to make the path easy for the followers. My footprints will be large and clearer.  I look back to confirm, no one I see. May be they will be lost somewhere. If their story intersects with mine, my left impressions will simplify the puzzle. 

Time has been ticking….each drop falling swiftly, trailing down the cheeks. Purest form, but insanity along and my footmarks are moving towards the finals.