this labyrinth has no end

no center in which to be eaten

no twine to trace an origin

just a blind turn toward hope

a quick glance back toward despair

one cannot be lost without direction

yet our angled descent is certain

I can see the sun before it sets

listen to the fuss of squirrel and jay

or be consumed in worry’s fire

there is no clear path to happiness

we are always here

(November 5, 2020)