Stepping.

It is the reality of life,

the hellos and goodbyes,

the lift you ups

the crashing downs,

the love in eyes

and the loss of hope,

the happy and the sad.

It is the reality in life,

the fantasy of mind,

where the story is told,

without boundaries,

but there are fences hidden,

along dusty roads,

that you only see,

when looking.

It is the reality of life,

the endless circle,

that is walked along,

wearing thin the dirt,

and trampling the grass,

as my steps hit hard,

never reaching the end,

a place to sleep,

for the weary.

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