Threads
The Threads of my being
Are becoming unraveled
As whom “I Was” is only seen in the shadows and patches
I am losing myself but finding myself at the same time.
The threads are unraveling the “sweater” of my being
It is being rolled up in a ball of wool, like so many threads of life, cocooned
Until a new garment is made from the old.
What is this garment
that my mind and my being are weaving?
It is a garment that reaches back in time,
even as it becomes invisible in the present.
This garment is my shield
As I become ever increasingly vulnerable
But never increasing deep
Deeper than I’ve ever been.
It is not about a “meaning of life” journey
It is not Nirvana or Valhalla
It is not an enlightened moment
It is melding in a new way of doing things
Finding new ways of learning and retaining memory.
Even poetry becomes therapeutic
As my garment takes shape
And covers my nakedness.
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