Walking the Maze

      The bright, broad earth dims to become
      a labyrinth in which I walk
      on feet that ache, grow numb,
      and yet must feel the way I take. 
      Stumbling me on where I can't see,
      step by step they make the road
      I'm not quite sure is there. Unsure, unshod,
      and slow, afraid to fall, I go
      where all is now opaque
      to me. Does the way lead out or in?
      At the center, or the door, will I be free?
      No choices left to make. I follow on
      the maze whose gate and goal are mystery.


    
Ursula K. Le Guin