A stranger less fortunate (edited)

[SomeRandom]

Any and all help is appreciated; still very new to poetry.
Okay, I chopped most of it off and I think I'm in 2014 now:


New Title is: Life's Labyrinth. (open to suggestions though)

---

I awoke one day without warning,
within labyrinth walls-- stretching beyond measure.
Among timeless trees I crept,
dodging python roots in thickets dripping in darkness,

Eyelids forgotten, I groped the mossy walls; they were my eyes.

With dusty limbs and paranoid visions my journey met its end.
Surrendered,
at the foot of an oak, the universe enveloped me.

---

I awoke in a labyrinth, walls stretch beyond measure.
Timeless trees innumerable
I crept through thickets drenched in darkness
dodging roots that wrap round ankles like pythons.
Blindfolded neglected eyelids,
fears fed fire; time abandoned structure.

Suspicion grew
of my labour's scope and end,
like weeds unchecked.
Immobilized in thought,
I found myself surrendered,
resting at the foot of an oak;
I pondered the years, story and quest,
the uncertainty of existence,
futility of resistance,
familiarity of death.

---

Revised


I awoke in a labyrinth, walls stretch beyond measure.
Timeless trees innumerable, roots wrap round ankles like pythons.
I crept through thickets drenched in darkness,
Unblinking, eyelids lacking purpose,
As time abandoned structure.

Suspicion grew like weeds unchecked,
Of my direction and purpose,
Immobilized in thought I found myself surrendered,
Under this wise old oak.

I sat meekly twiddling my thumbs,
Pondering the years, story and quest,
The uncertainty of existence,
And the futility of resistance.

---

Starting point


I awoke in a labyrinth; it's walls stretched beyond measure.
Roots and trees growing everywhere,
I crept through forest thickets drenched in darkness,
Forgetting what use my eyelids served,
And time fell off the hinges.

Eventually I grew suspicious,
Of the voice which had whispered: “walk”
Hysterical, naked and still without light,
I found myself surrendered
Under this wise old bark.

I sit in meekness twiddling my thumbs,
Wading through all existence as time turns to crumbs.
I ponder the years, story and quest,
The science of uncertainty, unglamorous existence,
And the art of probability, which was resistance.