The Labyrinth
She journeys through a maze of mirrors,
Aware of her reflection only,
An image of her own creation.
Brutal. Beautiful. Betrayer.
Just beyond her vista of vision
Another reflection blinds her,
But she is drawn deeper into
The labyrinth by It's presence.
It stalks her desire.
Freely, she allows It to open her gifts.
She gains pleasure in the exchange -
Her treasure, It's disease.
She leaves behind her a trail of crumbs
. . . just in case,
Unaware that, too, will be consumed in time.
Her pace quickens, but she is careless,
And taking a corner,
Accelerating,
She runs into . . .
Herself.
Aware of her reflection only,
An image of her own creation.
Brutal. Beautiful. Betrayer.
Just beyond her vista of vision
Another reflection blinds her,
But she is drawn deeper into
The labyrinth by It's presence.
It stalks her desire.
Freely, she allows It to open her gifts.
She gains pleasure in the exchange -
Her treasure, It's disease.
She leaves behind her a trail of crumbs
. . . just in case,
Unaware that, too, will be consumed in time.
Her pace quickens, but she is careless,
And taking a corner,
Accelerating,
She runs into . . .
Herself.
www.committedtofreedom.org
1 Comments:
I could definitely relate to this one in particular. Struck a chord with me...I am that person.
Anyway, I am a poet as well. God has given me so much in that way of expression. I long to publish one day.
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