A gossamer tangle of cobwebs.
A million threads tied in a knot.
Infinite lines radiating from this standstill;
Diverging, converging, entwining,
Yet each leading its own separate way,
Laughing at the ineptitude of crossroads.
If only I stood at mere crossroads
And every picture were cut black and white
With none of these confounding shades of grey,
Would the choice have been any easier then?
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