Loops, more loops and the desert is hot, oasis

are not found, just mirages and the wanderer is beginning

to feel the touch the death, seductive, it is easy to go on

in endless loops, stationary, on going, it matters not,

no matter how fast or slow, the same scene repeats,

does not change for it is again a repeat, albeit slightly

different but the essence is the same, the same fulcrum,

the same pivot, the same lies, the same world, whatever

now as the wanderer begins to fade out of reality,

for his choices do not align with the core, the core slips

away, each branch rots, each root gets eaten away

from more sacrifices, and sacrifices are not always painful

in one plane. Who ever said we lived in one world?