Beginnings.

A labyrinth of moments, each different from the next. Everywhere I turn, a new beginning begins, but they never find a finish.
The walls are nothing.
I walk to the horizon.

Another maze. It's all so surprising, but entrance is granted.
I wonder if it's different.

It isn't.

Up in the sky, the moon is swept around. Swaying over the ocean. The waves keep crashing. The moon still keeps moving. Almost like clockwork. Like a wind-up doll.
And through it all, the maze keeps going.

Another patch of sky. The moon has vanished. Or shrank.
But now the stars sign. Twinkling out a life that could be mine.
If only their light could shine enough for me to make it through the maze.

Sudden darkness.
Glancing up to the heavens -- the sky has clouded over.
There's no spark of Leo or Orion.

Winds from far off countries have taken echos of their stories, but all that is heard is whistling. Crashing. Misting. As the moon comes down from dreaming, and the crashing waves stop sleeping, one can only wonder if this is only dreaming.

An unseen blockage is an illusion. A turn taken to begin a new beginning -- still looking for an answer, but never finding the finish. The wrong turn is taken, and lost is found.

Lost, a dark line is made, hopefully in search of the way back to the moment.
It could be left or right.
It could be in or out.
It's either this or that way.
It should be one direction.

But the turn that was taken, the turn that is being made, the turns to come, they don't hold the answer. The stars are gone. The ocean has melted into darkness. The moon is weeping somewhere.

This might be the end.
Or this could be just the beginning.