Her Hand

I have felt Her hand across the vasts of time

Guiding gently though firm and resolute

That I should not fall into the dark abyss

In which the Way is lost for centuries.

So many times the life-force has returned

When it seemed that death would shear the silver cord.

This plenary grace that succours and upholds

The errant spirit when the darkness speaks

And one is lured by siren-song to fall,

Surrounds my soul, protecting aura of light,

Though I revolt and petty pleasures seek

And must exhaust the remnants of my past,

I know that She has portioned out my grief

That I might bear the loneliness of loss,

Aspire even through the numbing haze

That falls on me sometimes and clouds my view

Of the pinnacle that is my spirit's goal,

The goal of all who would attempt the climb

From ignorance to consciousness and light.