Footprints

history is hidden in the footfalls of time

the sand is bleached white under the unblinking sun
the footfalls meander over the distance, up and back
from horizon to the past
sometimes singular, often in small groups
travelers all

but here, booted prints, scores abreast, sink deep into the sand
phalanx after phalanx
heavily burdened, their steps short
charging into an unseen destiny
but the sand is pristine, there are no remains to mark their passing

my companions all, unseen
were they here before me or have they come after
or were they never here
only phantoms conjured in imagination
or abandoned in memory

I am drawn to the single trails
stumbling, tracing a wandering path
they and I searching, unknowing
but it is the foresworn path
that is taking me to where I must go