Here is a poem by Doyen Lingua:
Pathways unrecognized send me in circles.
A thousand ponds, bridges, and trees identical.
The baroque fractals of emerald hue;
wandering gnomes that stare with eyes of death
follow my movements without moving.
What magic, this?
That I am lost in myself alone,
and still so unfamiliar,
with its thousand convolutions.
Yet the water is peaceful.
Fields of flowers are my bed.
From here, should I never leave?
Would solve a problem or two.
Like figuring out where I am.
Where I’ve been.
Where I’ll go.
The garden maze has no exit.
Like the earth itself, we have no wings,
or else fly too close to the sun.
The gravel, the grass, the leaves, the trees:
these are my thoughts,
these are my memories grown.
The labyrinth is my soul.