Finding Myself

I find myself doubting my faith
Crawling out of the fire into the woods
I hear few people have walked this path
Fewer have made it out alive.
I am plunged into the intricate works of the labyrinth
Realizing I am lost
Is the core reason I was born.
The labyrinth is not a maze, but a path
Life is neither a burden nor a farce
You lose your soul or your life
Either way the choice is yours.
Echo, echo, history is a pottery
Focus is concrete,
focus is the thread of Ariadne.
Forever woods
Endless mountains
Wherever I turn is a path
I ask questions
And create my answers
Its what brought this nemesis.
They mark me insane
But I deem lucid
And unhinged to history's binoculars
Pointing forward but revealing the past
Morbid choices of aged men.
The old woman La Llorona ties their souls
To the fear of drowning
Mothers call it the mayhem of destinies.
I do not know where I am going
But as I drown deeper into this ocean
Plunge further into this dungeon
I will not hold the hands of the dead
Nor pitch my tent with old wives fables.
Insane, clear, unhinged and pure
I must find myself
It's what earth is made for.