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Meandering slowly through the cluttering with eyes wide open and an observant mind, I tread carefully to make sure I don't damage some fatally important finer detail. The triviality of some things amaze, while the sheer carefreeness of a few others frighten. I see paths leading off , off to no particular destination, in no specific terms of creation and the purpose of them all, defeats me. Even as I hope the one direction I am in holds good, a bigger way takes over in a new sense, a new sense of direction. A maze like none others.

Obstruse obstacles and blasphemous booby traps become common sight. The fights through the barricades and the frustrations of a few dead ends too, become routine.You start thinking of yourself,at most times, in the second or third person.I do.Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you know you are close to something of significance, but the mere complexity makes sure that's the closest you'll get to it. Sometimes you'd wish you had a nuclear bomb to blow it all up. And yet, at other times, it'll all seem so lovely that you'll wish it remain exactly as it always has been. Clouds make you conveniently not-see a few mountain tops, around which there never would be a way. But again, a few earthquakes might, for all you know make sure you'll never see the mountain at all. Confusion over your journey, but you never stop. Frankly, my dear, you can't.

You'll be aghast to see specific sights on the journey, while a sense of sweet deja vu, too, is possible. You'll see your own creations, and fight with them to survive. Maybe, a few will be on your side too, but you don't really know. Atleast not until the battle is over. But then again, when does it get over? Do you get to know? How do you get to know?Is there some way to know? Any way to know? Do you find the answers written on the wall or would you rather take it from the mirrors?

The mirrors. Oh, the mirrors would try all they can. To make you more confused. If that is possible in the first place, that is. Confusion through deception. Or other ways. You'll get more confused by thinking you aren't. Each of them telling you a story. The same, sometimes. Different each, at others. Of how it used to, how it is and how it will be. Of how it could be, how it should be, and how it would be. And how it is, again. And what you will do about it. What do you do? Do you do anything at all? Say something? But isn't silence supposed to be golden? Do I walk away? Which way, then? Left,right or into the sunset? The choice will be yours, but only if you are brave enough to make it. Keep making them. There is no gaurantee, really, that your first one would be correct, after all.

And so you make them. Sometime or the other, you have to;the path will make sure of it. All your choices seem to be a result of chance. You felt one to be better, left the others, realized a few roads down that it wasn't, tried to turn back, were successful;weren't, tried again, gave up, took a new turn all over again and continued on.On and on and on.

There is no signboard saying "The End", with classical music composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart playing in the background, but you know. It is. The End. You turn back and you can see all your journey.The paths you took and the paths you didn't. You try to ask the question, "Why them?". Even before you finish the question you know. There is no answer. That's who you are. Retrospection comes into play. You may even become smug, you never know.A self-professedly scientific chap, you, are even reminded of the butterfly effect. One small right turn down a seemingly harmless gully somewhere and I would have ended up a few light years away.

And this little walk down the conscience might have got dumped into the bay.