I Am a Thinker

I followed.

It’s white outside, blanketed by the winter.
I see someone’s footprints, have passed me already,
heading somewhere, alone, vanished in the distance
Marked by a sharp depth of a curvy memory,
Someone has left behind for me to follow,
To become of their own crispy mind.

It’s breathing outside. So, I go, and I follow.
Seeing my breath, only cold magic can do,
Nice and warm inside my lungs vapor desire
To follow and see, whose steps belong to.
Anytime I breathe out, the distance gets closer
Braided by frozen eyelashes, anticipated by crystalized lips,
I manifest myself to outside, to the distance of its memory.

It’s still outside, timed by a clock of direction.
I’ve been following one of them, someone’s,
In an icy dress, companied by a white melody,
only snow can composed.
I plea to become mine, I followed to reach. So I did.
I followed the footprints, and I came to the destination,
melted by horizon, the line where the perception meets the experience.

I looked back… And I saw them, the footprints.
They were mine.
I didn’t follow, I reached instead, the destination
I’ve chosen to become my path.

It’s warm outside, taken care of by the Sun.
I see someone’s footprints, have passed by already.
Another to follow, vanished in the distance, alone,
Someone has left behind for me to follow,
To become of their own mind.