So fickle, us humans are
Running through mazes made by our hearts
Explaining with our minds what once eluded us
Right when we seem to arrive at an ultimate conclusion,
Yet again, we are struck by confusion

The mind has silly loops and trivial rationalizations
We think we know what is well for us and define ourselves with good terms like "smart" and "well-adjusted", "responsible", "successful", maybe even "beautiful" or "dapper" if we're feeling especially confident
But we will never be able to observe ourselves without bias,
And even those who are able to observe our strengths and vices still aren't able to escape the lense of their unique and ingrained bias

So what other way is their to say it,
But that we are merely rats stuck in a maze
Trying to transcend the mediocrity of the maze with reason, or imbue it with meaning, or rely on a religious agenda that promises to save humankind from the vexation of the maze
For we have a flickering inkling, an intuition that has no words
That life was meant to be lived outside of the maze,
Free from it's rigorous and soul draining expectations.