In this labyrinthine strange world of thine, br Of lanes and bye-lanes, I may make or miss br The path that leads me right, the path of bliss, br Which, when I choose hurdles seem to line br Up; to my left deceit and doubt hinder, br Compelling me to turn where I’d ere gone, br Or worse, stand still clueless my acts to mourn, br In doubt if to right goes graver blunder. br br Embarrassed of embarking on many br A mistaken lead, burnt fingers, tired toes, br I’ve a self-taught lesson learnt uncanny: br Paths but paths are; one scarce right or wrong goes, br Whatso the core of inner cord may shake, br Simple or not, straight or not, aught one take. br br -Sonnets | 29.11.