Sunday, July 8, 2018. Daily Brit Wit.
Noun, British informal
“Life is a messy maze like trailing bread crumbs all the time
or maybe not bread crumbs– yes, that’s right; it’s torn up pieces of a sarnie
mouldy and aged– why hasn’t it been thrown away? This is forever the crux of the matter
trusting life’ll turn out all right when it’s nothing more than a dizziness inducing maze where nothing makes any sense like it should
but logic doesn’t belong here, haven’t you learnt that lesson by now? Obviously not
yet the winds continue whirling onward like it does before a tornado or a hurricane comes raging at the world, ready for midnight destructions
mixing up the trail you’ve been following and now your path is jumbled– which way had you been headed?
So you stop in the midst of it all, looking and looking and looking but nothing makes sense any more and should you– should you just go?
Meander your way forward whether or not it’s the right way to go just to see where life will take you? Who knows? You could speculate all night and day long
just go– just do. Maybe it’ll work itself out in the end?”
© The Loyal Brit Wit, 2018