With bare feet I trace the labyrinthine path, the spiral meanders; as I carefully follow the patterns Time marks out on the dancing-floor, deliberately and precisely I step, at first slow as the stars turning—then a little faster, and a little faster still; turn and step and spin and I am again weaving the Old Dance as in and down I dance, dance down towards the center and the dark.
Down, down, down I dance, down the spiraling path, whirl in then out then in then out, and always, always down. Down the serpentine paths, down the tangled passages, down through the place of the double-axe, the place of the butterfly, the place of rebirth.
Dance down through the dark, through the fear, through the anguish, to the border, at the border, through the border, dance in terror and in ecstasy.
Dance, down, down, down to the darkness, whirl in sorrow and in joy, dance down to the center, to the Monster, the stinking filthy Bull-Man, and remember he is my brother. Dance now in dread and horror, dance, dance about and around him, dance for him, dance to him, dance with him, whirl and spiral and spin until death and life are one, and the Monster is the Star.
I awaken into the Light and we are reborn; the Bull-Man is a noble and beautiful God, and we two are bright as suns.