In the labyrinth I find comfort,
each wall but a mirror of my person
reflected in endless passages,
where both ends and beginnings
rival for prominence;
no destination, no way in, no way out,
just the ceaseless undulations of me
amid the tree of life.
I am an enigma, a baffling stigma
of what I think, linked to absurdity,
the insanity of expression my obsession,
and the darkness I abide,
the ride of my life,
til I find another way to be,
I’m spread too thin to see
that I’m far less than invincible.
Break my bones and bleed me dry,
who’ll be there to sympathize
when my reflection fades,
and the labyrinth just a haze of transparent walls,
forestalling all the steps that made me fall,
when what I am resounded strong
and now barely seen, a faded form
in a lost cause within a dream.
Standing alone, grey my beard,
the world at arms length, my labyrinth
with paths well worn, scorns me,
and steps in any direction flow to my expectations,
as my flesh gets weaker,
my wants far tamer than they used to be,
as words become the clothing of my mind,
the very shell I wear in human kind.
The labyrinth now within my mind,
the paths I seek and flee
only tweak my interest,
yet from a viewpoint not surrounded
I, finally confounded, let it lie,
and witness all I need to know,
not throw myself to the wolves, instead
I now have no reflection at all.
In the labyrinth of my mind, I am comforted,
both entrapment and freedom have their guile,
and I often walk amid the maze
to exacerbate my ire,
but in calm repose the fire serves
to remind me I’m still here,
so I’ll follow all those paths that are sincere,
and laugh at every dead-end wall I near.
Tony DeLorger © 2018