Path

Wiping the dust from my eyes,

Every once in a while I hear the cries,

Of a nearby creature, too small to be noticed,

Desiring to find its land, plentiful and promised.

This creature, who walks the same path as I,

Doesn't search for a fault to rectify.

Rather it takes its time to hunt its prey,

While I, with sorrow and difficulty, lay.

Awake Earth as the creature moves!

It walks with freedom, not bound by any shoes

Which, in my case, only trap a foot in need of speed,

Because the body demands it! It is a need!

That, without power, the path of foot disappears.

The ground crumbles, and the sweat smears.

What a fortunate thing to be alive!