That Readeth This Book, From the Beginning to the Ending, Pray for Me While I Am on Live

Hawk woman sent me back to Wart,
Wart threw me back to Malory.
The road down into the abyss
Runs as quick and narrow as faith
And those slipping, keeping balance
As we leap like goats, stone to stone,
Are prone to think the broad highway
Is not the road of the sinners

But of uniform hordes of saints.
I'm happy for the descent, I
Am, happy for each next step down
That I stick, nimble, or at least
Do not slide clean off completely,
Not an end in myself, never.
Only the living dance with death.
We're most alive who dance to death.