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Entrance to the Maze
I met them at the gate though I usually wait inside. Preoccupied with their own throughts, impatient, like so many children, they didn't see who I really was. They never noticed my crown, my pain, the fire in my eyes.
Like all others they think the Maze was made for them; actually, it is the other way around. They think I am some poet who will lead them through the symbols and spaces of this Underworld. They think I will teach them lessons. They should call me Cerberus...I am the lesson.
The monstrous walls rise up and run away as far as the human eye can see, circling and dividing. Which half is the Maze?
Even I get lost. It changes - sometimes slowly, imperceptibly...sometimes suddenly. This House is not only made of stone and mortar, wood and paint; it is made of time and mystery, hope and fear. Construction never stops. I take some pride in my role as architect.
They think I will guide them to the center. Perhaps I will...
The sun was very hot.
Together we walked through the gate into...
...the first room.
Return to the Introduction to the Maze