Threads

As I look around

I notice threads

Threads which were once so strong,

But now through time and use are frayed.

Old cloth, tattered, worn down, beaten.

I see blue there,

The color of a joyful sky,

The color of that soulful music.

These aren’t all sad threads

They have lived.

There is red there too,

The color of a raging fire.

The color of lips pursed for its mirrored pair.

These threads have seen life.

I pull one,

Just to see what would happen.

It stretches.

It doesn’t break.

Longer and longer it goes.

Until I let it go,

Returning to that place where it should be,

Where it has always really been,

With the Thread Maker.

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