Lost

If I stopped you one day and asked you for a moment, would you spare it? You see I need to ask you a question and only you can give me your answer, but if you can’t spare me a moment then I suppose I’ll have to be willing to let your answer slip by.

You see I can’t promise I’ll be quick, since it’s you who will hold the clock and seconds, minutes, hours can only be counted in your mind. But I’m sorry; you don’t want to hear me rambling. I’ll ask you my question, perhaps you will answer and I’ll move on.

Who do you think I am? I’d be very interested to know. I’ve tried to answer myself, but I need a second opinion and I’d like to hear yours.

Would you mind terribly? I do hate to be a bother, it’s just I’m a little lost. Not geographically of course, in that sense I’m well and truly… un-lost. But within myself? Well, that’s a little more complicated I suppose.

It’s a bit like a maze, and around each bend is a promise. But if I choose the wrong path I’ll trip and the promise holds out to be false.

It was better at the start, there were more paths to choose and less of them had roots or brambles to trip me. Then the paths began to narrow, and of the few that were left, even the ones that seemed right, grew to thwart me and catch my feet.

So if it’s not too much trouble, could you please tell me who you think I am? You see, if you can find me, then maybe I can too. I must be in here somewhere, just tangled in the undergrowth, like a coin someone dropped without notice. I only need a little help and if you would I’d be so grateful. Can you spare a moment? Or maybe even more? I won’t hold it against you if you don’t; I’ll just wait a while more.