Life Line

I look up from my post, lying on the floor Questioning the cracks in the ceiling above me Likening them to my recent history Stretched from end to end Wall to wall They mimic my life Like jagged scars A life-line transcribed From palm to plaster Split here and there, seemingly without rhyme or reason Yet I know it has a cause A beginning and therefore, an end. And in between I witness an uncertainty Will the cracks expand? Run amok? Split the surface and break? Or will they hold up the sky with an unerring strength As it has since that first tendril started to run across the clean slate, Of wood and paint, heart and soul, above my world. Cracks let the light in don’t they? Yes, love They do © Cornelia aka Flying Angel 2015