well, the empire was listening too close. I always wanted this (all of it) to reach you like a poem…or a storm…all at once, but with a duration of its choosing. I wanted it to live with you for the time you both needed it to. somewhere in the static, so much was lost. a flame and a maze just became insecure. a post meant more! like I always wanted! but only so much worse, so much emptier. so much was lost. mazes with nothing to learn, and blazes with nothing to burn. mystery became the price to be un-afforded. everything’s a sale and nothing was a gift. nuance lost to the taxes. or maybe it was me the whole way. maybe the maze was my own trap from the start? from childhood maybe? maybe? well a trap it became. it’s where I write to you from. couldn’t tell you the way out, or even if the paths are there anymore. don’t think I even want out, was that ever the idea? or just for someone to attempt it? I think the center was meant to be a home, not a trap. funny how things are repurposed. fire and flame and blades into…well, you tell me?

‘what ever happened? to the songs you used to sing?’ well, maybe only the empire was listening.