Kundalini Splendor

A Hinge in Time

And then there was the pain,
so vast it was like
a hinge in time,
an antediluvian landscape
where memories burned the breath
of all that moved
scalded the restless hours,
kept us quivering
and still.

There were no recipes
or ancient nostrums to heal, potions
or sages to dispense counsel,
our agony kept us burrowing
ever deeper
into the crevasses of our soul
seeking answers.

Which did not come.
Until at last
we made
final surrender,
leapt into the abyss
of waiting darkness,
gave up trying to know
or fathom
with our riddled minds,
relinquished everything,
even the last scattered particles
of who we were.
And then
the sweetness
moved again.

Dorothy Walters
February 13, 2007