Footprints
I came upon some footprints
On a road worn with ware.
Left by some hurried someone,
Racing to get somewhere.
See the power in his stride,
His youthful confidence;
He's living in the moment,
No thought of consequence.
On and on the footprints go,
Towards the setting sun.
His stride becomes more steadied,
No longer does he run.
Carefully he stays on course,
For now he has a goal.
His responsibilities,
Weigh heavy on his soul.
As he crests the horizon,
He stops to look behind,
At the road he has traveled,
Not certain what he'll find.
He follows every footprint,
That he's left in his wake.
Then thinks about the future,
The steps he still must take.
But there atop his mountain,
He sees what lay ahead.
A new vessel awaits him,
Once this one has been shed.
A few more labored footprints,
Before his task is done.
Then on to a new journey,
Where he can, once more, run.
In following the footprints,
I've seen the grand design.
At last I know my purpose,
For these footprints...are mine.
Copyright © Mark Spencer | Year Posted 2011
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