Took a walk in Vermont today.
Found a spot and sat and peered into the bramble of grasses, branches, limbs and vines before me – the crows sang along, as did others.
Every good maze has a way in, but also a way out – how long can you look into the bramble before cutting through your own path ?
Then again, maybe just behind you is an open field.  Look around.

What’s in focus ?  Near ?  Or Far ?

See Also :: Wm Wordsworth, The Excursion, Book Ninth – Discourse of the Wanderer :

Yet was the mind to hindrances exposed,
Through which I struggled, not without distress
And sometimes injury, like a lamb enthralled
‘Mid thorns and brambles; or a bird that breaks
Through a strong net, and mounts upon the wind,
Though with her plumes impaired.