If this beggar had his horse to ride:
the name would be Redemption.
his pistoning hooves driving home:
Goodness, Thought, Safety and Love.
No saddle to separate the two,
rider and ridden
one and the same.
No bridle,
each knowing the path
strewn with danger;
each knowing the moment
to turn: leap clear
to continue in safety.
No bit;
both with the same
destination
to reach.
Riding forward
arms embracing
to feel every motion.
A whisper
that should be
drowned
by the urgent gallop,
but spoken close enough
to be heard.
My breath in her ear,
"Go to her!"