Labyrinth

Is it a journey through an uncharted labyrinth or a description of what its like to work endlessly on projects and then to take a break?

These walls grow taller, get deeper and whisper back. . .

They grow mosh and create a deep and heavy fog.

I can barely see what is in front of me.

The deep green grass conquers the ground.

I can feel a breeze.

Which each step, each turn each dead end I begin to realize that I may be here for awhile.

A long while.

My clothes have become dirty and torn. The Fools seem to be in worse shape then mine.

We walk.

We run.

We crawl.

We walk.

A mellow hum echoes within each crevasse.

Giant dark wooded trees grow, sometimes breaking these god-like walls.

But for now I am tired. The Fool is to. Perhaps we shall make a fire this night.

Climbing the tree can wait till tomorrow.

It walks on, skidding Its hand across ancient grey stone. Feelings its past.