So, as the thread title would suggest, this a short poem of mine. The inspiration for this is something that happened not too long ago. At least one person is sure to get it, and one other person might get it. The rest of you feel free to guess.
Two travelers wander a labyrinth, wander of their own free will.
A maze of many twists, and of many turns,
A labyrinth whose twists and turns always lead back to the beginning.
A maze made of anger and despair,
A labyrinth of worry and frustration,
All centered around one, and only one.
The travelers are both troubled, in their own way,
They are both worried, also in their own way,
And their worry, and their frustration converge on that one, that single one.
So the two continue in their walk, looking for a way to get to that one,
But a way they do not find, no matter how long they look.
They despair, but they press onward, knowing it is only a matter of time.
Once more they go around the maze, when suddenly, a way appears.
This way a simple one, and the only. They both know the way, and rejoice it is now open,
They both go, go into the hole leading to that one, that only one.
And that one's words are those which relieves the two.
And that relief causes the labyrinth to fall around them, crumbling until nothing is left.
And then those two, now three travelers, wander around the maze of life, which does have an exit.
And that's it! I... have no idea if it is really a poem, per say, but that's what I'm going with!
So, as the thread title would suggest, this a short poem of mine. The inspiration for this is something that happened not too long ago. At least one person is sure to get it, and one other person might get it. The rest of you feel free to guess.
Two travelers wander a labyrinth, wander of their own free will.
A maze of many twists, and of many turns,
A labyrinth whose twists and turns always lead back to the beginning.
A maze made of anger and despair,
A labyrinth of worry and frustration,
All centered around one, and only one.
The travelers are both troubled, in their own way,
They are both worried, also in their own way,
And their worry, and their frustration converge on that one, that single one.
So the two continue in their walk, looking for a way to get to that one,
But a way they do not find, no matter how long they look.
They despair, but they press onward, knowing it is only a matter of time.
Once more they go around the maze, when suddenly, a way appears.
This way a simple one, and the only. They both know the way, and rejoice it is now open,
They both go, go into the hole leading to that one, that only one.
And that one's words are those which relieves the two.
And that relief causes the labyrinth to fall around them, crumbling until nothing is left.
And then those two, now three travelers, wander around the maze of life, which does have an exit.
And that's it! I... have no idea if it is really a poem, per say, but that's what I'm going with!