There is a girl walking beside me.
Where did she come from?  
I hadn’t heard her come up beside me
on this isolated forest path.
She appears to be about my age
with a river of black hair falling down her back.
Her shoes and clothes
blend with the forest and the Earth,
with patterns that tell a story of this land.
I can see others like her
gliding through the forest.
They have been here much longer than my family,
and centuries before this nation.

I see two boys on my other side,
enemies walking side by side.  
They look to be about the same age,
of 19 or so.  
Their clothes are opposites of course:
one wears the bright red uniform
 all nice and neat,
the pride of his mother country.
The other wears baggy brown pants
 and a disheveled dark shirt,
a man who could be ready in a minute.  
They don’t fight each other as they used to do,
they simply smile at each other,
 like good friends taking a walk.
 
Suddenly,
 I realize that many people pack the little path,  
and the air vibrates with excited noise.
I search the crowds
and see a solitary man,
just a little ways ahead of me.  
He is dressed simply
and has a book called Walden under one arm.
He lives just a little ways off the path,
in a secluded house by a pond.

I realize we are all heading down the same forest path
 despite where we started from.
Maybe we will continue on together,
or maybe diverge up ahead,
but for now,
 we are still walking together,
with the same footsteps.  

But it is just me,
just me.