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The corridor slants not from fatigue
But by some deeper persuasion
It guides me sideways into barriers
That recall the forests they displaced
The rug resists a proper edge
Its corners lift with intention
Relaying truths about gravity
I was never meant to grasp
Some surfaces conspire
Not to hinder but to suggest
To teach the body new dimensions
Of caution and acquiescence
I’ve learned to walk without destination
To let the ground shape tempo
There’s guidance in its wavering
A draft of truth within the slow
