Cyclical pathways
repeat patterns of
experience, response,
without re-treading
any ground.

Losing myself in its
weaving ways, the path
is foreseen when one
starts to look at
the long view.

Tired of the words
of blind admirals and
self-proclaimed gurus
spouting believable
fictions, I wonder:
could I create
new tracks beyond the
confines of labyrinth?

Morbid curiosity
overcomes me.
What if? What if..?
I feel diminished,

Sensing my moment,
I slip through a gap
in the fabric of here,
emerging in some
distant city.

Exotic smells spread
on warm evening air.
Unknown tongues
uttered over
unfamiliar meals
in side street eateries
affirm that I’m
jubilantly lost.


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