around the labyrinth
almost eight pm and still
no sweater is needed
rectangular stones
still warm from the August sun
curving this way
and that
filled in
by a sort-of lawn
not watered
not weeded
but still green in clumps
here and there
I say a prayer for my Soul
I ask the Great Spirit
Mary Magdalene
Guru Rinpoche
I don’t care Who
for mercy
for Grace
that I may be thoughtful
in my speech
in my actions
without considering my thoughts
at all
that I can trust
the perfect harmony
of no-plans-for-Saturday
that I may see my path clearly
right before my nose
without straining to guess
what is around the corner

around the labyrinth
around in circles
it seems
but ever deeper
into the center
the Celtic cross
the blood of Yeshua
the stained relic
of tooth or bone
show me
my Maker
and I’ll show you
my Heart
I can almost touch
the path through time
I can almost hear
the call of the shadows
the noise of destruction
and birth