The Mazes Of My Life, Of Our Lives Poem by RIC BASTASA

we are mazes,
and some people who take us as
important, follow us in that maze, every turn, every
quizzical path, scheming mind, and at those corners where
there are celebrations, they scrutinize, the reasons,
and in the loopholes of our disappointments, they begin to smile,
embrace the comfort that they are not alone in all these
miseries, that we are all one race, one experience
of leaps and bounds, of manholes and mounds, of hills and trenches,

sometimes, i look at this maze, and i say with all confidence,
i have mastered these secret passages, i have no fear,
i always arrive at what i desire

i don't jump for pains, neither joys,
this is just a path that i have to walk on
and go through, and finish, and when i arrive there,
another maze opens itself, like some kind of doors
which lock and close themselves the moment i enter

for what life is exactly? it is personal, it is i who must
wade through its water flow to its river fall from its cliffs,
rise to its skies, explode to its jubilation,
rain to its drought, fill in the cracks, conceal its cancers,
survive its hurdles, drink its poisons, and
then die with all my colors

flowers on my sides, sunset at my back, their tears on my palms
their whispers passing through my ears
end to end like a wind gushing through
my windows......