One can be beat or one can learn the beat
And dance the rhythm where the hold is sweet.
For the vice, the yoke, the bond holding time;
Is any one’s always just me and mine.
So hard to call this clasp a riddled thing:
It wakes each day the same old song to sing.
It’s that feeling life can’t be without one,
But knowing there’s a point it will be done.
One’s holding with this pair is life’s great care:
LifeInDeath/DeathInLife as all’s aware
This oscillation hurts and will not heal —
It’s an open wound with no just appeal.
Such is the life we’re given for the best
We can make of it before our last rest:
To have taken it — far as one could go,
For nevermore another you to show.
Your dancing feet dancing both in their time
The vice, the yoke, the bond — couplets of rhyme.



[Those familiar with my Magic Thinking-Linking

will see this as an SOS — Symmysts of Syzygy poem.]