It Is
So you shout, I say it's sharp.
You've gotta work to make your mark.
And through this lonely maze I tread
And every twist and turn, I dread.
I know I'll spend tomorrow here.
And still, it won't be ever clear.
All through the drains and up the pipe.
It's all a fervent, indulgent hype.
I never see an EXIT sign.
I wonder if the light's benign.
The smoke still rises; or so you say.
Is this a game we play each day?
I think I passed forever when
I took a turn, the same, again.
And wound up here, and what's to come?
Another mazey day...what fun.
At least there are no stipulation.
Just many different situations.
And in the end we all must cease.
Must cease to be, and fold our crease.
And move on to whatever's there.
I've reached a fork, but do I care?
For left or right, I could take either.
Or shall I rest, and now take neither?
Or might I turn around and head
Back where I came, to where I;ve tread?
I wouldn've done it years ago,
But now I've learned, I've walked alone.
It's not so bad, not what it seems.
I care for me and all my means.
And so I will continue on,
On through the maze, forever gone.
Copyright © Mary Carman | Year Posted 2007
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