The maze

it is a maze to run through
unblinking eyes the flare
to know and be aware
some one's chasing down
those labyrinthine paths

where their sprinting
might pour out of
into vacant wishing wells?
out of brimstone quarried hells?
only the languished runner tells

on visceral coils
thunders the lightning
sparks ignite the maze
to consuming flames
and the gaze of the runner
sinks deeper in the soul's panes

and thirst they may
for first light of day beyond
the nightmarish tunnels
they coursed through

relief at last from
a blink in the looking glass
the runner has returned
from a mental trot...

just a thought