Tuesday, March 04, 2008
The Labyrinth
(image from source)
The Labyrinth
I have danced to the center
and back
so many times
I cannot count them.
Drunk water from
the sacred well,
fed on the juice of the secret
honey comb.
Sometimes the thorn
of the rose
pressed deep
into my flesh,
the cry of a bird
at night
echoed warning.
Always there was movement,
there was turning,
sudden moon,
the lightning flash
at the source.
Dorothy Walters
February 3, 2008
