Crossing

I wonder why I always look down.
A stride to temporarily be apart,
My feet reunite, reaching the end point.

Head not looking ahead.
Eyes fixed to the concrete,
Cementing the prints I leave behind.

My trails are structurally random;
Like my mind running in organized motions,
treading my disorderly thoughts--provoking emotions.

I wonder what would happen if I pick my head up;
From the dirt, I cover my face in mud.
Therapeutic treatment, cells awakening.

To where I look, each direction--lines are endless.
Passing strangers, each preview--sneaking immediate judgments.

When will my interests be paid? I wonder--
How will I pay it forward?
I look up and I can finally see.
I know I'd always look down;
I look down--and wonder.