Footprints

In my journey through the wide and silent land
that, like the sun, no bound or compass has,
nor any separate part, nor print of foot
save only mine behind me, I will see
no footprint twice except I turn my head,
look backward in the time I leave behind.

The land will not remember me, though now
we silently commune with each slow step.
But I leave a small impression on the land,
if only for a time and only then
upon mere surface. Thus I journey on
and care not that the land will soon forget.
What matters is that once I made my mark.