He is Like a Dancer in His Wisdom

(to a Nobel Laureate)

His extremities had been weighted

As by centuries of continuous movement

And may now be found lacking in tone and coordination;

Although time, with its fine discernment

Of the needs of this species

Has moved him inexorably towards immobility,

It is still possible for him to peer

Through layers of sunlight,

Somewhat closer to the core of its brightness

Than most of us have had the privilege,

And he is now able to skip quite lightly

Along the byways of truth,

Thus avoiding a multiplicity of obstacles.

In his heart he is undoubtedly a dancer

In the tradition of Nijinsky playing the fawn

Or the bull dancers of ancient Minos,

and like quicksilver flowing through cracks,

Unearthing subtle roads where none had previously been discernible,

Like a micro-surgical blade probing between tissues,

He is quick to set aside what is unimportant

As he dances to the minicenter of our existence.