some picture life as a labyrinth
a maze,
concrete
and exact.

they claim we spend our time here looking for that one final answer,
the way out.

but the irony is that there is nothing at all that makes life concrete or exact.
so as the walls of the labyrinth crumble in your mind

see,

that life is an ocean
an infinite high tide
where the salt stings at the whites of your eyes
and throws your body like a rag doll into its shadowy depths.

there is no knowing where it will take you,
in the end,
when the storm desists,
some may end up on a beach with everything they've ever wanted
and some with nothing at all.

we are at the mercy of the tide,
that in itself is the horrific beauty in life.