This question stands as sentinel -
mother and father to all unladen memory.
Of these unknowns within
and around,
fear is tethered to the dark mind,
asking what the red
already knows, in the spaces of silence
shed between beats.
Of the promise of an unmarked
page, each possibility
aligns to an infinite, unchained
thought,
lain mute by honesty,
for absent of doubt, nothing changes.
The remains of a query decay.
All ink fades,
turns this paper back to blank,
to before the maze delved
domains
made hollow by need.
To fill back to empty, cease enquiry -
it matters not
whether we are this maze
or simply within it.









21 old applause
