Does not know where it dwells
We whirl, delirious, exhausted
in a gyre ’round the truth
we feel its pull, gravity
yet it is so far away
even keenest sight does
not know where it dwells.
Each second of a lifetime is spent adance
each step new, though queerly familiar;
though it is rarely made for two
it is something every soul must perform.
Unspoken Politics 
It has indeed become a tap-dance; limbs tire, soles wear, souls bear. Nicely put Andrew.
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Indeed, thanks for the feedback.
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