The future wraps in on itself,
A snake eating its own tail.

The present a reflection
Of the past,

The image skewed through a
Mirror that distorts and
Illuminates

At the same time.

The ultimate paradox,
Patterns repeating ad naseum

Like spirals spinning down to
Infinity

What is my purpose?
Why am I here?
Will these questions ever be answered?

It has been said that the purpose of
Life is the journey, not the
Destination.

Where is the map to guide me?

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