We all eventually walk the path of black
narrow, claustrophobic
burrowing deeper and deeper like synapses of the mind
run, tumble, twist, contort yourself to just move along
until you're nothing but a crumbled mess
consumed by the insanity of the labyrinth and dwelling on previous trails that have taken you awry

Then you realize that this is the way things are meant to be
this is the price of freedom, this is the cost of living dangerously
the path is not black, it is unknown
and the path is not one path, it's a manifold of possibility
mystified truth and purpose around every turn, finally found
demented trails leading to dead ends, learned opportunity costs

Forgive the ***** that drenched your vantage point
strike a match and burn it to the ground if you must
but reserve them, those paths unknown you know now
and take it from there

For a fruitful outcome, one must prune the branches
and what is life without pain and suffering? A delightful fallacy.