One Word

Tempered by an unravelling thread in a tapestry that satisfies my wish to ponder how everything fits together whilst observing how holes in fabric mimic what is behind my eyes - stepping into an inspection chamber, safe from the street A feather caught briefly on a roof tile. Too far away to observe it's beauty but still captured under it's spell until the wind whips that peace from me My eyes magnetised to find the answer, resting upon that which has an unseen charge. Until all that my glare collects impairs my vision to that of eyes in pond water - stinging until they are soothed by a covering of algal bloom From then I rely on memory, snagged on the jagged edges of hanging files, the holes always punched into the wrong places - denying the one word that makes sense of it all. Somewhere, there's a single sheet of paper, with one word written in the corner - captured as it tried to blow away. Placed there. To be found out of context. When I've long forgotten what I was missing.