The Maze

Beckoned eventually by absolute loneliness. A life will extinguish without a last flicker of fight. Surrounded by shadows, possessions and emptiness, look back on a life steered by a hand that squeezed too tight. Every pathway hid not a door but a wall. The desired opening most impenetrable of all. Fists banged and punched until they bled. Legs kicked with an anger that burned a scorching red. Now gone forever as a body lays still, cold to the touch if there was someone to feel it. Passing on from this life with no legacy in place. A lifeless seed, a hope gone to waste. What joy can there be if we never bear fruit? What use is living when living is the end? Where was the path with a different route, instead of the maze that had a wall at every bend?

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