Ariadne's Thread: A Poem

What is life

When there are no new countries?

When there are no new experiences?

When everything seems predictable

in the way of the future?

Where oh where do the boundaries lie

Out from my brain and through me eye?

When will my hippocampus begin to refuse

A request to save a memory to reuse?

How do I know that what has been saved

Is an accurate rendition of my cards played

Where does the will come from

To continue beyond?

To make a new move?

To decide to play a new hand

Against history as dealer

What should the result be

beyond the vanity and suffering of life?

at play with the Sisyphean slave?

as a hamster moving

between the wheels of life?

A clock

Ticking in one's corner.

A pen

Writing on one's skull.

A book

Written inside a clockwork orange.

A blessing

To all the Бѣсы.