Blind Maze
It’s sometimes said that life is like a maze
Of one-way doors through which we pass each time
We start some phase in our experience
And we must choose, or blindly guess, the prime
Way forward and accept the consequence
Of what we find behind the chosen door.
Is life mere luck, then?. Or does some fixed plan
Guide us along a predetermined tour
Towards the secret object of our days;
Our steps controlled, our minds constrained to scan
Pale fragments of perfection’s promised whole
Until, at last, we reach our destined goal?.
Had I the answers I might clear my muddled mind
Of these dark cataracts which make my vision blind.
