Hoping to not forget

Alive and quick,

my feet in my shoes,
walking my way,
wiggling my toes,
feeling the earth
with my soles,
wondering when

 
voyaging through
the shroud and mist beyond
will I miss the walking,
the wandering,
the wondering the most
when I am where feeling
no longer rules,
no longer dreams,
 
or
 
before that time,
when all that remains
overhead is a spoiled,
listless sweep of gray
stained by our futility,
will I be
missing more
the blue and distant sky
seen through canopies
of leaves half green, half gone?
 
Breathing deeply,
better to consume both
air and visions of myself
beyond the mists,
past all of this,
hoping that I do
not forget you,
the you that I
will likely miss the most.