The sun rises.
The sun sets.
In daylight, in darkness, I simply try to plant one foot in front of the other, taking step after step, never certain where I am heading. All I can do is hope that each step brings me closer to the one I love, rather than taking me that much farther from her door.
The only thing I know is that each step, each day, each moment takes me that much closer to my own end. Whether or not the path of love will intersect with that march toward death I do not know. All I can do is keep taking each step, one at a time, and trust that where I am heading, besides my own demise, will be some small junction with love and, more importantly, the woman I love with all my heart.
I can only hope she will be along my route because my path, like my destination, is hidden from my eyes. In fact, I cannot see but an inch in front of my face in any direction, so I cannot tell if I am walking toward her or away from her. I listen intently for her voice, smell the air for her scent, reach out in a circle around me trying to touch her, but I find nothing. Just emptiness.
From time to time something trips me, I stumble and fall. But I rise each time and, with increasing care, continue to take step after tremulous step, uncertain if I am stepping along a plain or about to walk off a cliff. I can't be sure if my next step will walk me right out of this world or take me right back into her life.
Then again, maybe I am just on one big treadmill, walking in place, getting nowhere.
Step after step.
Just hoping I am walking toward love and not away from it.
Because love is the only destination worth the trip.
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