The Shoe Was Just a Shoe

I bought a pair of simple shoes, With nothing grand to gain or lose. No story there, no hidden sign, Just leather stitched with simple twine. I placed them where the light could fall, And thought, "I'll wear them after all On one bright day, when dreams come true, These waiting shoes will walk me through." But days grew weeks, and weeks turned slow, The promised day refused to show. Each passing dawn would softly say, "Not yet... perhaps another day." Then one strange night, inside a dream, They disappeared without a scream. I woke and feared the silent clue Perhaps the dream itself was true. So, I began to push and pull, To make the empty future full. I chased the moment, held too tight, Until I scared away its light. The harder that I tried to steer, The farther hope would disappear. I built a bridge from fear alone, Then watched it crack beneath its stone. Was it the dream that changed my fate? Or did I simply rush too late? Did destiny decide my view, Or did I make the dream come true? Perhaps the shoe was just a shoe, With laces tied and nothing new. Perhaps I crowned it, all the same, And gave an ordinary thing a name. For overthinking is my art It starts within a hopeful heart. I water seeds before they grow, Then wonder why they never show. Now every day I wear those shoes, With morning skies and evening hues. No sacred date, no perfect time, No mountain peak I have to climb. I've learned that life moves best this way: Not every step requires a day. Some joys arrive when left alone, Like flowers blooming on their own. So, if tomorrow calls my name, I'll walk to meet it just the same. No dream to fear, no sign to prove Just quiet feet, and room to move. For shoes are meant to touch the ground, Not wait where only dust is found. And maybe hearts, like wandering skies, Grow lighter when they stop asking why.