Labyrinth

One wanders around

in labyrinthine

search of oneself.

 

Born at the center,

we drift outwards

until the end.

 

This mortal coil,

is my labyrinth.

 

I wander in doubt,

but with faith

in this wandering

life, which is mine.

 

Its walls are only as narrow

as my eyes; my perspective

is as deep as my gaze.

 

The more I wander,

the more I wonder

at the intricacy of

 

my labyrinth,

my world.

 

As far as I can see,

it keeps going—

it is growing,

it seems.

 

Once, it was maddening

not to be able to see

a means to the end.

 

All our ends,

                      are means—

we are not lost—

                            now I see that

I am circulating.

 

We move like blood

from the heart

to the brain

and back.

 

-James B. Moog