Scattershot

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
know how) They do (Somehow
people live)