This poem originally appeared on Lindy Thompson's blog and is reprinted by permission. See more of her work at lindythompsonblog .     I am the labyrinth.   Keep moving.   I don’t know where I am going, God. It looks like one way but ends up being another, and I turn sharply when I least expect it, and sometimes it looks like I’m going to collide with someone else – how can this be right?   I am the path. I am the labyrinth. Keep moving.   I want to see, God. I want to  know . Why must there be so much unknown? Why must there be so much waiting? Why do you move the way you do?   I am the light. I am the path. I am the labyrinth. Keep moving.   Other voices call and make other promises. It sounds easier to go where they are, do what they do, avoid what they avoid. I don’t see them beating their breast, prostrating themselves, begging for mercy, anguishing in their search for something real.   I am the truth. I am the light. I am the path. I am the labyrinth. Keep moving.   It woul...
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