Clueless

My foot slides into the same place of those before me

The shoes submerge my feet, a long way to go

Alas I walk in them anyway 

Whispers, to be great 

that it’s all in our fate 

What about the world before me?

Soaring birds they have no doubt, no second thoughts,

going without a pout, diving through a willow tree. Why couldn’t that be me?

Silhouettes of a desperate wombat loom on the grass from the moonlight glare

devouring their feastly dinner, not knowing their home will become a river.

I glare at the footprints in front of me. Despising them, loathing them, what are we to do?