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Our distant parents knew,
they left the message carved on rocks
wove it into tales told by firelight
tales of journeys into darkness
of facing the unknown

They found the pathways through the forests
the fords across the rivers
the narrow mountain passes
the islands in the mist
that lead across the sea

They marked them with their passage
sang them in their sagas
hard-won knowledge
the fruit of failures
saved for those who followed

but there are no maps
no well-worn ways
to guide us through the maze
there are only hints and fairytales,
only riddles and rumors

What begins in blinding light
ends in darkness
What lies around the final turn
behind the final door
will always be unknown


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