follow strands through a mess of twine,

All connected and intricate beyond understanding

Even less than a day smoothly wound on the skein,

Miracle if it happens,

So many loose threads moving in so many ways.



tying together  easily as a collision.


struggle to untie the melded mass of lives lost in the tangle of reasons,

made into throttle of knots through neglect and indecision.

Loose ends pulled tighten the mass in new places.

Must go back and loosen it to breathe again.

Could use scissors to cut the strangling places,

But how to know arterial from structural?

Cutting the wrong place could sprout pulsing fountains or

Leave a limp pile of useless bits.

Better to work through the puzzle

Pulling and choking, maybe get enough on the spool

Then cut and hope for the best.


This entry was posted in All part of the process, can't really complain but, change, mindworks, poetry, thinking in words, visions from the dark side, Word play and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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