There were no clouds no beams of sun. Only the blaze of light reflecting off of the pavement. Looking at the ground there is only a continuous line of experinced paint. It stood still as I looked at it. It didn't move but this contant marker went on forever. The paint was indiffrent to the world around it. Like Pi is always Pi no matter the eqution around it. Time goes on forever too, always contant, always progressive. So does it really matter what we do? Time will always be in front of us and past us. Humanity will always be falling forward and catching it's self again to fall forward. Just as the wind was trying to stop one person from doing now. Falling with one leg catching with another. Now matter how many times gravity was averted the line was no less infinite.

The pair of worn cross trainers worked in tandem to push the ground , the future, into the past. Their soles were worn and bent to the shape of the life they supported. When they came out of the box the shoes were bright silver colored with a yellow trim. They smelled like the unsaturated pellets that kept them dry and fresh from the factory. Now as they each took turns rolling over the river of deserted asphault they looked tired and broken. No holes broke their skin, thier soles stuck firmly to thier body. They were simply used.

As the infinite line vanished slowly in the distance, submitting tiny strides to the shoes, a bird caught the gaze of a person passing by. The gaze passed, it could not stay because it was hitching a ride on the soles of the shoes. Without the recognization of it's existence brought by the gaze, the bird vanished. All of the thoughts that turned to dreams that fueld ambitions that led to trumphs that fell and was caught again by the thoughts that went on in th bird's tiny stride of a life disappeared. The animal was innocent and could not have prevented it's fate.

The responsibility rested on the current of one that was practicing the human ritual next to the line. The world that the bird had disappeared from moved with the current. This domain did not spin like the terrestrial sphere of earth. Progressively floating forward was the mode of transportation, the constant exchange of energy humanity named the universe was the medium. Nothing was now the birds home like the uncertainty that surrounded the edge of the map.

The world foated and the stream of approaching and going was constant. The only change brought was the subjects in it. Actually mattering did not grace these for more than a limited fraction of time. Pi, the line and the rise and fall were as eternel as the waves wearing at the beach. Only they mattered in the perspecitve of infinity. The road was as bight as a searchlight to one sence and as hot as grille to another. It lit the way against the dark fields of corn but both were ultimately conquered by the colassal unbroken sky. Shadows, the yin, were a thing of the past but would ultimately come back again as the sun, the yang, fell. Abruptly the pavement split into two possibilities.

One future split into another and a choice that delt with infinity became infinentaly important. The new road now found itself under the old shoes. A world of choices lie ahead, each carrying an infinite importance. I knew the map and were my relation to the world was. The recipie to my home was simply right, left, right. I would only have to keep falling.