Path

Twisting, it flows like an endless serpentine path. Each door, an explosion of light and sparks of darkness within brightly colored landscapes. The chamber is easily seen and wantonly desired. It is almost kissing the redness of your lips, yet, no, it brushes past, not giving itself so freely.
To touch, you must descend into your fears, all the monsters of your mind taunt and lick their wounds, growing yellow and green, more pungent by the day.
As they frolic with your machine, rolling through fire and cushions of doubt- you walk, stumbling, groping blindly for the moss covered walls- hoping to feel the warm glow of crystals that hide half exposed in the earthy contours, revealing themselves only when your heart unfolds. Tears splash into eternity with the fine shimmer of fairies, opening with all the wetness of a crying silvery shadow. Steps come and go, there is no going back, and forward is merely a black fantasy, sealed with kept secrets. The step, this very step, left, right, left…the toes lift, the heel engages earth…right, left, right, left…the voice that doesn’t know language is here, the immortal tears of a voyaging being fall, small circles dot the path with each muted thump.