Tracks

From the Commonwealth Essay topic "Tracks":

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We pass through life. We live, we die. And all we leave behind are our tracks.

Yes, our footprints in the sand, our legacy. We leave it all behind.

Like a dancer going through a performance, we move of our own will, interacting with the other cast and characters of that stage which is the world. We whirl about, occasionally colliding, occasionally spinning past the others, and as we dance, the tracks our shoes leave on the floor weave an intricate pattern, intertwined and entangled with others. Black marks are left on the stage, and others step over, on and around them.

The tracks of famous people cut across and stain the stage of the world with big, black footprints, followed by many smaller, curious tracks. Boots, wheels and treads leave their mark on the stage too, and many are compelled to follow these and search for the reason for their existence and the violence that often follows them.

Some tracks converge as people collide in the dance that is life, some moving in the same direction in a two-person dance. Some separate and diverge abruptly afterwards, moving off in opposite directions. Some weave ugly black lines through each other as they forcefully and purposely collide, over and over again, until one is forced off the stage in death. And some remain close to each other, moving in tandem for the rest of the dance.

Some tracks are deliberately made darker, as if to make them more noticeable. These are often the tracks of those who jump and make noise, as if that would get them more attention. Such jumping may leave its mark on the stage, and the tracks may be noticed at that moment. However, many such trails still fade into obscurity, leaving not a mark.

Then there are those of the successful. Big, confident strides, crossing other trails as they go. At first, they don’t always leave a mark, except when they cross others. There, then, they become noticeably darker, and make themselves known. Taking from the darkness of the tracks of others, they themselves grow blacker and more obvious, and the more they cross others, the darker they become. Some, dark enough, may even leave a mark upon the stage.

And some tracks are near-unnoticeable. Small, faint prints, scrawling unnoticeably through the maze. These are the tracks of people who do not make an impression. These people choose the path of least resistance, ambling leisurely through life and never going too far in any direction. A scribble across the stage. Not leaving much of an impression and avoiding the others, these tracks are the most common. Walk, walk, walk, in the dance of life. Though never amounting to anything, these tracks are still there, to be noticed only by those who would still take care to look at them.

We are dancers, doing the dance that is life. We go through the motions, and play our chosen roles in life. Some are famous, some are successful. Some are attention-seeking, some strive to be ignored. This dance, OUR dance, is beautiful. Yet, when our time is up and we leave the stage, what do others see of us?

Not our dance, not our beauty, not us.

Just our tracks.

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