"No exits there," the eyes would say,
until we searched another way,
investigating halls and rooms,
which some decided were our tombs.

We crawled and pressed and leaped around,
exploring ceilings, ledges, floors,
in time, amazed by what we found:
perspective changes walls to doors.

Perception hid the truth that night,
and, ever since, we question sight
and everything that seems to be.
Such wondering could set us free.

Then most of us would leave at last,
except for those lost in the past,
refusing any newer view.
I hope someday they make it through.