The Loop

the mind hates an open loop
like a bird hates an empty nest
it cannot rest in ambiguity
it must weave something with no rest

it does not care if the puzzle fits
only that it appears complete
the circle must be closed
even if fickle lies is all that holds it neat

vagueness is a vacuumed void
where the mind cannot breathe or escape
so it fills the emptiness with tales
echoes of half-truths to try resuscitate

the truth whispers quietly at the edge
but the mind—a desperate visionary
chooses to play deaf
over the noise of its own machinery

and just like that, the loop tightens

into the noose of reckoning

unless space is made for the opening

and the unknown becomes

nonthreatening