It's the moment when you look down and see footprints overlapping,

bringing you back to a place you never knew you wanted to be in,

that you begin to get an idea of how lost you are.

Sometimes you're lucky, and you realize what or who it is you were looking to find

right then and there, and you begin to set on a new path, solid and sure in your step.

But most often, you'll lift your head and look every which way,

sure you were meant to go left, while someone is pulling the string in you chest to the right,

and you'll find yourself even more puzzled than before.

No one tells you their names, and you're the last to know what is the task at hand.

So rather than attempt to entrench yourself in the present matter,

you keep walking forward, head down and heart set.

You'll only end up back where you started,

but there's a certain comfort to never really knowing where you belong,

rather than staying put and seeing you could have been stuck in a place you know you shouldn't be.