Journey in The Things I Write When My Mind Won't Sleep

You boots left vivid imprints upon the dry ground that cry out for redemption as they slowly bleed away. I followed them well, I followed your path, your journey the best I could. And now here I am sitting where you once sat the impression of my foot lying upon the impression of yours and I feel content. Not safe or complete for one as broken as I could never achieve either of those states, but I feel content. I am connected to you at last and I am content. Content to lay where you have lain. My shadow of an impression dwarfed by yours. But content to be in the very place you had once been to breathe the very air you breathed and to live where you have lived. Your path was not easy, it was full of toil and heartbreak and unimaginable pain, but through that toil, heartbreak, and pain you flourished and have become what I can only hope to become. I sit here now after following that very path and I have not flourished my heart has broken with unimaginable pain just as yours had. But I am not a traveller as strong as you, I follow your path but weakly and slowly. and now many years later I have reached your final stopping point and I am content. Broken beyond repair, but content.