Footprints in the sand…stretching along
towards the horizon. You find them from time to time, as you walk.
Some of them still warm, as the air still holds the faint scent of
perfume of the man that just passed. Some of them old, you can
barely distinguish them in the cold wet sand. An yet you keep
following them. Walking towards the horizon. Pointless… But you keep
walking.
Maybe you’re waiting for the rain to wash them away and set you free. But the tears of the sky has dried out. So you walk along, drawn to the horizon, following the footprins, as the sea is crying her solitude. With every wave she’s trying to steal them.
But you keep walking alongside. no matter how fast you go, how long, they’re still stretching in front of you.
And then the time stops. And you find yourself in that old picture, alone on a beach. The footprints you followed cannot be seen. The night has fallen.
Maybe you’re waiting for the rain to wash them away and set you free. But the tears of the sky has dried out. So you walk along, drawn to the horizon, following the footprins, as the sea is crying her solitude. With every wave she’s trying to steal them.
But you keep walking alongside. no matter how fast you go, how long, they’re still stretching in front of you.
And then the time stops. And you find yourself in that old picture, alone on a beach. The footprints you followed cannot be seen. The night has fallen.
