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
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!"