I cross the earth in studded shoes

I cross the earth in studded shoes
That leave my imprint on the ground
There’s nought but swirling fog around
The path now forks which way to choose?

It can’t be left? So right instead
I weave new patterns as I go
The rocks and reeds force me to slow
That punctuate the tracks I tread

I’m trying to get from A to B
To make a true and simple curve
If I could float up to observe
Concentric circles I would see

I know that I’ve been here before
Familiar shapes the fog enshrouds
That echo my despairing sounds
And fresh new studmarks mark the floor

Not Montrail’s lugs nor Walsh’s print
But Inov8s and they are mine
They stretch in front and make a line
That mark the route of my torment

From sanctity, I have digressed
This wilderness in which I roam
I try to find my passage home
But compass shows that east is west

And then salvation from this curse
For in the mist it all comes clear
My tracks map out how I got here
Which I now follow in reverse

My footsteps are now light with air
And overlay the ones I made
But soon the rain will make them fade
As If I’d never left them there

I reach the hill down which I slide
To take me from this foggy fell
And when I’m home and all is well
My studded shoes will rot outside

No way to treat my noble guide