Here, hold the end of this line.
I want you to.
I know you do.
See how thin and fine it is?
Hold that line.
It feels thick sometimes, it feels large
and robust with codes of glowing and
I could twine it up into my hair
and wear it like a tangled web of gems
I see it wind around trees and buildings as I let
It knows where to go,
coming to you.
Some days the line feels vague and small
and I hold on tighter
and wait until we speak what it needs and it
widens and breathes and stretches again.
But even when I'm not holding on as tight as I should
and I know that you can't
because all the dark marching
has flattened you out
it seems to stand on its own...
Singing and winding
and spinning on pause
on a loom we know to find
when we can.