It was in that ancient city of Cuzco that I first became

Tangled, in the confusion and darkness of The Path

Cuzco, the center, the navel of the Universe they say

From which all paths lead, into and out of

Consciousness, unconsciousness and every arena Between

Roaming the clean-swept, impoverished streets, dogs of every color and shape

Detached, or hopeful, or given up to find sleep

Their innocence and hunger gets my hackles up

But I walk on, going to market

Hoping for a bell-ringing clue; some color; an easy giggle even

When I left that city, I begged to be allowed to boil it all down

Something to spark my recognition of Hope, a gleam retained

Boarding that air-glide alone, too alone

My faith just a tingle at my fingertips, I flew the northern path, Ancestors,

To this new Cuzco, La Center, where I know not one soul heart-to-heart.

The boil-down came to me when I first felt the ground again

Love and Trust.  That’s It.  The magic words for the earth-bound Human

No more is needed.  Still, it often sounds hollow, like a bell toned long ago

But I’ll carry that true memory, that one-note song

And my feet from here on out will dance the radiating Light of All that Is