In Ther Labyrinth Poem by Daniel Brick

Is it possible to find a way
through the labyrinth without
Ariadne's thread? Is there a way
to feel my way out? If I lay the palm
of my right hand against the smooth
rock face of the wall, will I sense
its movement toward a door, or an opening
that admits fresh air? I will accept
either the greater or the lesser result.
But I am afraid that a part of me
I do not comprehend has sentenced me
to wander these corridors that lead
to yet other corridors. And as I wander,
corridor upon corridor, I ponder: Even
Ariadne's thread will fail me if I am
so divided against myself, and soon
I would recognize a hopeless future.
That is one strong possibility, a practical
man might take it as fait accompli and
ponder his future into oblivion! What's the use?
his sagging shoulders would convey. But -
But the longer I inhabit this place, the more
I feel I'm at home. As if I were not a visitor,
or a stranger passing by, but a permanent resident
of this reality. Perhaps in some distant time,
I volunteered to explore the labyrinth, perhaps
I was ordered to walk along corridor after corridor,
perhaps even now I am an object of praise and
the subject of talk. In their neighborhood talk,
I may be the hero who wrestled the Minotaur
to domesticity. How could I disappoint
such people by something so trivial
as my homecoming? If I discovered Ariadne's thread,
I would not touch it....