the corridor of waiting

we navigate the labyrinth of illusions with great care -
it seems that someone up there is constantly
shifting, re-arranging its dimly lit corridors,

perhaps even modifying the blueprints;
we wait. what else?

we summon images of a passage to a dreamless winter

we imagine an impossible love

or practice ways of unravelling old mysteries

and gaining a measure of clarity…

we hope to find the way out;
but aren’t hope and waiting

dark corners of the maze?

isn’t the quest just the universe

deceiving itself?

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