Shouldn't…but Do

Life is a waking dream.

There was snow on the labyrinth. That it isn’t a maze disappoints some. With only one path, the direction is up to those who walk it. Some quickly without thought – impatient for the center – some never finish, some never start.

The walls worn in by those gone before, repeated passes cast the groove.

It was the dance that first made the path that laid down the grass. So you could see the way.

That unseen thing drives the seen, the waking dream of life. It pales in comparison to its source. There was snow on the labyrinth, the path remains to be seen.