To love
Is to enter a holy labyrinth
Without a map.
There will be wrong turns,
Retracing of endless winding steps,
And dead ends.

Why, then, enter and endeavor
To plumb the maze?
“If only I could find,” I thirst,
“The one who takes me as I am,
Who will love me as I yearn
To be loved.”

Wending while thus longing
Brings tempting openings
And blind passages.
The labyrinth magic disorients and
Disencumbers from illusion.

The maze reframes
And seduces, leading to elusive wisdom.
After all,
What I seek is not to be loved.

Rather, I yearn to find myself
Giving unbridled love
So transforming
As to kindle sacred yearning
In another.

Only then
Is the center achieved.
The grail appears
And my parched heart blossoms.

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