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-angle turn
I saw
An angled ceiling and a passage way
Pale that's similar
To light on a cloudy day
Once white
Now gray
These things I gathered in the time allotted
What could I notice with more reflection?
Where is everyone?
Why won't this corridor end?
These things I 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 possibilities
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