There is no reason to forget
Who we are,
From where we come
Save for the labyrinth
Where we find ourselves,
So cunningly made.
When we strive to break free
We are turned back to the same spot,
Only a different scenery.
We ask for help,
But what use are directions
In this place?
We walk a path, turn a corner,
And wonder:
Will this be the one?
Yet how many turns have we made
Alone, or with another
Only to be disillusioned
And left puzzling:
Have we moved closer
Or farther away?
Let us stop
And be still,
And be still.
Have we become too accustomed
To running along boundaries
Of the mind?
Are we too eager
To follow the thread
Of the day?
Daedalus is myth
And so is our labyrinth.
