Follow the thread of history
back along these corridors,
contrived turnings,
so many corners.
We passed this way before.
We followed the thread back
to where all this once began.
But it only follows all our errors.
Each and every mistake we made
is embroidered between these walls.
A cat's cradle of our failings
tied up, parcelled, packaged.
Waiting here, still,
for history to return.
