The Labyrinth

(For E.S., who has suffered for 18 years.)

Trace with me the tortured path
That leads from life down to the pit,
The pith of all, extent of art,
The dent that ends our drowsy crawl.
We part, as left and right we step,
A saraband of close and far,
A near-collision and a split;
Thus we repeat our courtly dance,
Quite meaningless to those without.
(Within? A summary of self.)
We're almost there! We fail, we strive;
At last the ribbons meet again,
And we are recombined as one—
The center of the universe.

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The Labyrinth