Amid the labyrinth of thoughts I roam,
A tangled web, a realm unknown,
Confusion's mist, a shrouded veil,
Where whispers of truth and illusion assail.
Paths diverge, in a bewildering dance,
Leading me astray in this mystic expanse,
Like whispers of shadows in the moon's pale glow,
Uncertainty's grip tightens, to and fro.
A puzzle of feelings, a riddle of mind,
The pieces elusive, so hard to find,
In the echoing chambers of doubt's embrace,
I seek a clear path, a steady pace.
The compass spins, the stars lose their way,
In this realm of bewilderment, I stray,
Yet deep within, a glimmer of light,
A beacon of clarity, shining so bright.
Through the fog of questions, a truth takes form,
A guiding star in the tumultuous storm,
Confusion's grip begins to wane,
As understanding dawns, a soothing rain.
And so I journey through the maze,
Emerging stronger from the haze,
Confusion's song, a fading tune,
Replaced by clarity's sweet boon.
About the Creator
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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