I am at home in the tree's crook,
where my feet rest above the dirt,
and my mind can climb from branch
to branch in a never ending search.
The sun's eyes peak through
the canopy and stare into mine and
mine must close for while open, they
are blinded by freedom's light.
Now my eyes feel through the dark,
bending and twisting in and out of
thought, like a maze made to feel
simple, but has no end.
In my tree, I feel the walls grow
until even the sun is blind, left waiting
for my eyes to open again, its patience
endless.
Alone in the dark I am comforted
by the warmth of the tree at my back,
I curl my toes into the soft dirt,
preparing to stand.
My eyes open. Slowly, I stand. The sun's
gaze finds me again but I remain defiant.
The labyrinth I walk through may have
no end, but its walls remain mine.
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