We, even the most circumspect
       and perceptive, somehow
       have found ourselves skirting
       on the periphery of our life
       and fail so often in grasping
       the true nature and essence of things
       and, in between,  are left dangling
       in doubt, uncertainty, claptrap
       that saps away the life-blood of our being

       like a top in perennial spinning
       in full knowledge it will be stopping
       and fall away after the final turning
       there is but senseless motion with no growing

       if I must love,  the core
      of your heart I should be seeking
       to enter and not be standing
       outside the circle which would
       but be futile waiting and empty desiring