In my dreams I often cannot find my way
even though I know both the maps and the territories well.
Something always bends in an impossible way
as if life poses a labyrinth, unseeable but maneuvered through
all the same.

From my journey I know determination but also loss:
safety perhaps or the feeling that all will make sense some day.
I walk in riddles, on chessboards, along the edges
of shuffling cards.

Somehow people live.
(I don’t how)
They do. (Somehow
people live)


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