Death comes knocking at my door,
My footsteps echo on the floor.
Because of time, I know it's him;
Who else would knock at 4 AM?

Opportunity comes a'knocking,
Watching, waiting, sulking, stalking.
The clock is ticking, ticking, ticking,
Time's conniving, tricking, tricking.

I tilt my head and listen near,
His breaths outside still reach my ear.
He's come to taunt me, nothing more,
To flirt with me behind my door.

I want to run, to back away,
but fear has frozen me in place.
Fear and footsteps, time and lore;
Death comes knocking at my door.

We are each a second of existence,
Living, feeling  then death.

We are each a moment in breath,
exhaling beyond our lifetime.

We are each a footstep in time,
and sometimes they remain.

Collect your memories
          and realize
that were but a grain in the time
of a universe
                     of awe and inspiration.

Even though I walk in life,
                 in death I wonder
                                 aimlessly.

Realizing I travel more now
                  than with any breath..

For within seconds I have
                 travelled my entire life
                                 without a footstep..

And now my footprint is no more,
           but others walk over what
                              I had done before.

Luminous stars caught above
                                         sight,
catching the shimmering
beauty of powdered trees.

A blanket of snowflakes gently
                                         caresses
surrounding landscapes of stillness.
As footsteps  break pristine white.

Empty silhouettes gather around
my footsteps sweeping me in the
current of what's expected of me.

I'm not a reflection of you, no matter
the pressures, pushing me into a tide
of despair, I'm going under do you care.

Collecting my discomfort, I etch it word
for word. Anxiety drains from my wrists
flowing within each syllable, scaring paper.

Ill never be a perfect copy of your footsteps,
drained of self, I'm a fractured reflection.
I'm tired, I need to be a reflection of me.

How alive I feel.
There's only me.

Me,
watching the stars as the moonlight guides my way.
Everything is quiet, all I hear are my own footsteps.

I feel free,
no one knows where I am or where I'm going.
In the daylight I'm lost, but at night I'm home.

I'm absorbed by the dark,
but I know where to go,
I know who I am.

This is where I belong.
How alive I feel when I'm alone in the world.