The Magic of Eternity


Sometimes time is a bandit
and he whisks me away on his horse,
galloping so fast I can hardly catch my breath,
leaving the moment behind like a distant figment
of my imagination.

He's picking up pace now 
as I put pen to paper
and beat myself with the stick of a thousand 'shoulds' 

which can only mean one thing;
I've lost the flow.

But Lao Tzu, 
can I really afford the patience to remain unmoving
until the right action arises by itself?

When I am at the very cross roads of crisis?
A dandelion clock ready the scatter in the slightest of breeze?

Scattered in trying to beat the moment into submission
and boss around the flow.

Yes, it seems that squeezing life more tightly 
just makes it gallop faster.

So I became a hunter
approaching the moment like a wild horse,
so gentle, still and quiet,
all sticks discarded,
all boxes abandoned.

Until she opened up and welcomed me into her loving embrace,
and there I found not just my self esteem,
but everything. 

And I'm writing now,
not because I should or because it justifies my existence,
but because it is my medicine
and my window into the magic of eternity.

Ruth Harlow

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