There are no walls,
no stones,
no map folded in a trembling hand.
And yet,
I walk its corridors.

Each turn,
is a question I never meant to ask.
Each silence,
a fork in the path.

I follow shadows
that resemble memories,
voices that echo
but do not speak.

The sky above is always open,
but my steps are bound
by something older than fences,
older than fear.

Sometimes,
I reach what feels like a center-
only to find
another circle forming.

No monsters here,
no thread to guide me home.
Only the quiet knowledge
that the walls
are within.

And still,
I walk.