I heard the sound of an echoey voice
Soft enough to hear but to ignore
And then ahead again, a kind of corridor
A kind of corridor
Just around a right angled turn I saw
an angled ceiling and a passageway
Pilled a similar to light on a cloudy day Once white,
now grey
These things that gathered in the time allotted
What could I notice with more reflection?
Where is everyone?
Why won't this corridor end?
These things that gathered in the time allotted
What could I notice with more reflection?
Where is everyone?
Why won't this corridor end?
And then another turn, did I imagine it?
Cerebral invention Where is everyone?
A myriad of possibility
The angles would be sharper, more than ninety
Strange compared to standard mechanisms Only not uniform,
a kind of sneezing form
Creatures of tradition,
bothered only by the combination
All around but couldn't find the right
rooms That's the last place I came to
From a corridor that never ends