Footprint

Though this foot falls freely
so quiet and light
Though I may move swiftly
nearly hidden from sight
Though I sometimes startle
that being, so deaf
Through a specter
such is intent.

Could I be somehow grander--
Each step shall reveal
Could this step which I land on
be an external ideal?

Sure, the eyes may be pleased--
Sure, the ears may be believe--
that the goal of this race
to gather applause (like the breeze).

But- We, know of the essence!
For We, have felt it before!
So we move on with Stillness
like the Waves to the Shore.

Though our strides seem so empty--
and our faces hang numb
while our sweat pours with fury!
It's no race
(though won)
which gets done...