Bound To the End
I pull the silk drapes of night back,
and I watch as my darkest reality
merges into nothing
and everything
where the beginning and the end
are cradled in the hands of Mother-time
and fold together, forever in prayer
where the departed
have yet to arrive,
and the living genuflect
on the unknown origin,
of everything and nothing
this wonder was unveiled
in my awe of a universe,
but a cord in the material
of time, unbinds
and now
resting in solitary,
forever confined to the black,
of lost beginnings and abrupt endings
and worried between the hands
of the Mother
I find I can only hold
one end of the cord at a time,
and its slipping through my fingers
Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2010
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