Something about the path is familiar
The way it winds and twists
Leading you back on yourself
The curious way that tree grows
A particular heap of stones
Placed just so
To snag a bit of cloth
Its unusual pattern unmistakable
These vestigial footprints
That somehow fit your next step
And you've heard that raven call
Waking hazy memories
As you continue doggedly
Through these half lit woods
Ever on the way out
Never realising until you
Drop down the rabbit hole again.