Trodden ground
dust from slow footsteps, nameless roots.
The light glides over the faceless footprints:
only traces remain.
Worn metals, sun-baked leather, lines etched into the earth.
Matter becomes a memory of faded light, footsteps without an echo.
It is not a return; it is what the light envelops:
timeless beauty.
Dried plants,
rusting steel,
a fragile balance.
The earth asks nothing
of the footsteps it receives:
a tribute to what remains.
