Pattens and pathways lay into geometric shapes that force thinking outside of the box…

… to figure out ways into your soul’s fortress… bricked and mortared for protection…

I wish for wings of a bird so that I may view your complexed structure from above and see it’s center… but am fated to walk about the the composition of corridors decorated in life experiences… that lead me to your minotaur heart…

She’s been hurt before… and this is but her guardian… I whisper to myself and look around to see:

The ground that bare holes from those who burrowed their ways away when met with the challenge to defeat the beast… and that on the beast there are scars from those that tried to fight there way past it…

but were slain in the process…

I can hear the echoes of the battles in her speech…

And know that no one has ever tried to make a friend of this guardian… who was never trying to fight in the first place…

One look into your eyes revealed this labyrinth and in only a fraction of a second…

I figured that I did not have to fight to make you smile…