Bridled and unhurried
She entered into the night
Yielding to the reigns of her being
And listening to the heartbeat of her love,
    unsullied and penetrating.

She wrestled with time and place,
Hurling herself into space
    as if there were no tomorrow
    and no turning back.

With jet black passion
    she listened to learn,
And in that learning
    found wanton love of self,
Self so base
    as to turn the heart to stone.

Within the wisdom
    she listened and learned,
And in that learning
    found the truth of self,
The truth of love,
The truth of hate.

It was from without
    that it came.
For within lay only the
    wisdom of the ages.
There was no love there,
Really,
No hate either.
Only time lay still within her.

What was the rage
    of accomplishment?
It does not matter.
Only wondering matters,
And she did that well.

Could it all be the same,
All stemming from above,
A downflow,
An outpouring,
A separation of the same energy,
Misused, abused, twisted, turned
    this way and that?

She longed to know,
To understand,
To be aware of all that was,
    in a unified fashion,
    in time and space.

But she turned,
And knowing, she knew,
Yes,
For open within her was the window
    to timelessness,
To the "all-at-onceness"
    of no time and space.
And she trembled at the passing,
At the coming and the going
    so new to her, yet so ancient
    as to make her bones creak and
    her muscles ache
    and her spirit sag
    with the weight of the ages,
So old was she.

The passage of time
    would not be long now,
But she could no longer believe
    relief was at hand.
It would not come,
He would not come—
    the knight upon the steed.
For time and space
were closing in,
And pain - there was no end.

Hope,
Hold onto hope.
Wilderness wandering,
Will it end?

Soon!

^©1992 Sharon Terry