Mazes

The path before the eyes

is never black and white

it seldom is strolled for free

across some farm rich land

where a cow awaits to bless with milk.

 

Within the heart is a labyrinth of landscapes

from gardens to graveyards,

they aren’t found on any computer

and you can’t stop traveling

even when there is no sense of peace.

 

Because we are born with a reservation

in the middle of that maze in questions

where the darkness inspires

so many forms of impulse as itch and urge.

 

Though at times the confusion makes you ill,

others it is so cold and lonely

you beg for a fur coat to warm

before the risk of death looms in its dread.

 

Still there is the gnawing inside,

an unbearable lure of curiosity,

to find an exit door from the uncertainty,

discover some glass walls,

which are a invisible screen

that reveals the truth you long to find.

 

And despite the discouraging dismay

over the dead ends and detours

inside the spirit still holds onto a light

from the candle of what is your guiding flame

until at last you find

a portal to the place you were meant to be.