From the
Labyrinth
We begin at dawn,
so cold and dark,
the sun won’t rise
where we can see.
We pace the labyrinth
round and round,
seeking pattern,
a way in,
or out,
with only each other,
—strangers—
to help us light our image.
We end in sunlight,
linked, a circle,
feeling in each single touch
the warmth of every hand,
helping each other
to hold a dream,
or face a fear
of not being good enough
or strong enough
or honest enough
to join that circle.
And somehow all the shadows,
the lines that lead nowhere,
disappear like melting snow
and our hands simply hold,
and our circle holds,
and there is no need
to find a pathway out,
for everything we need
is simply there,
inside,
glowing
in each and every heart.
