A Curious History
as the hand of fate
parted the veil
I awoke,
on shape-shifting
white cotton dreams
grasping a thread
of saffron history,
a sparkling fibril
entwined
with the fingers
of my hands
I was incandescent
with history
as my fingers spread out
each minute twinkle
of precious memory
and on every
tear stained thread,
the abacus
calculates the
measure of life
in the make up
uniquely me,
a curious creature indeed,
will one day be measured,
and weighed,
to be always found wanting
but to a creature
not of existence
it will matter not
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