Jayne Eggins Poet Blank verse

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

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Carolyn Devonshire August 24, 2010 at 5:32 PM Jayne, I can understand these feelings. Sometimes I feel like life is "slipping through my fingers," too. Many thought-provoking lines, my favorites are: "where the beginning and the end are cradled in the hands of Mother-time." That's how life seems sometimes. Love, Carolyn