This is How I Walk

His footsteps. sharp and rhythmic, echoed down the corridor, and echoed throughout all the ages of his life. They were his bell of mindfulness, yanking him away from the whirling mental turbulence, and linking him to memories of days gone by.

There had been so many corridors, so many solitary walks.

The sharp tac-tac-tac being belted out by his shiny dress shoes on the hollow wooden parquet faded slowly into the muted brushing of bare feet on dormitory carpet. The pounding of heavy boots on cold, wet, New York sidewalks played to the same rhythm as brown sandals slapping onto bare soles on hot Caribbean sand and pointed heels clicking on Parisian pavements.

He was moving all right. Walking the same path to nowhere that had been beaten and trodden by all those who had gone before him. The footsteps stretched out like a long chain in his mind, linking him to that dream like moment when he first found himself wandering about in this dream like world.

How the world had changed, and yet how familiar it all seemed. Even his feet had morphed and expanded, and even the shoes were ripping and tearing before his eyes.

His heart beat to the same rhythm as his feet. It moved to the same two step which beat constant and eternal throughout the cosmos, and which made today fade and tomorrow blossom.

He continued slowly and, now, purposefully down the hallway. One, two, one, two, one, two. He was a metronome amongst metronomes and, like all who had gone before him, and all who would come after, he waltzed to the eternal beat of the invisible conductor.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack, click, clack, one, two, one, two, one two one two one two one two one  two one toe one two