Poetry / success

how long have i been running
one foot in front of the other
crackling leaves turn to crunching ice beneath me.
slowly the melted snow seeps through my boots until springs showers subside and arm air dries my feet. I just keep going, stopping to break or rest. silently my hands swing past me back and forth like a pendulum. with eatch inhale of cold air, i exhale a spring breeze. all the while my eyes and mind are directed to my goal. then suddenly, i stop.
I've made it.
The constant motion of time froze around me. The birds don't sing, the air stops blowing. I strain to hear the most minute of critters scurrying.
Yet there is nothing.
Like a painting a prison to the artists single image my surroundings cease to move.
Some how I've reached the end. There is an edge to the world. A point where you must stop and confront the possibility of achieving your goal. But this point has created a feeling of loss. Almost like I missed a turn somewhere. I stand here, on the edge of the earth unfulfilled with my success. I did what I was supposed to. I never gave up, I put one foot in front of the other, I stumbled and got back up again. At a crossroads I didn't stop, I refused to allow indecision or doubt dictate or pervert me. I just kept going.
Here I am. How did i get here.
I seem to remember leaving people once close to me behind. There were tiny fingers and tiny toes, calls for attention in various forms. I vaguely remember someone even attempting to love me. But I asked them all to wait for me because I was going somewhere.
Now, here I am.
Standing at the edge of a vast nothingness. There is nothing to hold on to here, too long of a road to travel back. All there is left to do is
Jump.

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