The only way forward is through the mist.
Behind you is unreachable clarity,
And only your footprints can return.
Every half-step inwards sends the shadows scattering,
Tracing patterns you don’t understand
On wisps of white you can barely touch.

You are Theseus in the maze,
Rebuilding yourself in every turn.
The Minotaur has been lost,
But the shadows are so much darker for its absence.
With no axe to struggle against, the only foe is forward,
Each turn revealing walls
So much similar to the old and cold.

And when you escape,
(And you will, with time)
The sun will turn your mists away,
Drop a question of light on your brow,
Blind you, bake you, unbreak and make you.

You read these words on moonlight,
And leave them in the day.