“How obfuse, this web before me;

Whereto, wherefore, spin I?“

Arachnid time whispered to me

Under the moon’s pale eye.

AA

“I know not where you spin,” said I,

“Nor from whence you once came;

“But lead me across your spindles,

“Various but selfsame,

AA

“And we shall find what can be found—

“Many curious things no doubt—;

“Therein lies your raison d’être,

“Or not: here is the route.”

AA

Starlight rained down upon our minds,

Revealing cosmic depths

And guiding us down celestial paths

With every twinkled breath.

AA

Dancing across these candescent tightropes,

We found at every turn

Endless unsearched-for rarities,

But naught that we could learn.

AA

“From void to void spin you,” said I,

“And how gay this spinning,

“Should be if you wondered no longer

“In your meandering:

AA

“‘Whereto, wherefore spin I?’ 

“But instead gave yourself

“To the emptiness that stretches

“Across this endless gulf.”

AA

And time, drunk with life’s dizziness,

Spun amok into the night,

Pirouetting across the void,

Finding there what one might.

AA

Thus is life: a gay vertigo;

And so spins on old time.

Going nowhere, it is ever,

And only, yours and mine.

Joshua Rubin