The road stretched into the distance all around me, surrounded by the impenetrable darkness that comes from our own minds. Ghostly footsteps echo on the paving stones, each one as worn and morose as a long forgotten tombstone, each one seeming to cry out "I have been here" with perfect and unbroken silence.
Though I am yet alone in this place, taking each step on the same blind faith as we all, I am surrounded by others that I cannot see, whose presence is heralded only by the echo of their steps and a few lonely cries in the darkness.
The strength of your faith does not matter here, for we all take those steps trusting that the sun will rise in the east as it always has before. Perhaps not everyone realizes that we all walk the same path, and some fall before they should, eaten by the despair and darkness that they see, the despair and darkness that we all see.
My mother and hers have walked this path in their time, their footsteps echoing back through the generations like a melancholy and musica echo of my own, twining with hundreds of other such melodies in the continuance of time's implacable movement. And somewhere, further on this path, I know that there is a space just for me, where I will take my turn supporting the steps of others. I wonder, will anyone notice when I fall? |
