We shoes were made of iron and forged in fire. We were given leather straps to bind us to a pair of feet. We were made to slog through every kind of terrain. We were scoured by desert sand and scraped by mountains of flint. We froze on ice and snow and scorched in the lava flows. We carried a young woman through forests and bogs on her journey to the ends of the earth. Carried is hardly the word. We bound her to the earth. We made her journey a suffering. At last, our straps broke and she threw us off and went on in bare feet, released.
She did not need us anymore. She skipped away, light as a feather on her dancing feet.