the work

life

in this world

can be

like so many fingers

and as you know

those fingers

- sometimes tiny and soft

sometimes bony and hard -

can pull gently and kindly

and sometimes very insistently

at the fabric

of your self

they stretch your very fibres

until every so often

the world

as you have created it

is suddenly

and almost inexplicably

undone

and if you keep your eyes open

in that moment

of undoing

you'll see

that the air

of your knowing

is suddenly

and beautifully

filled

with coloured filaments

dancing

spinning

and turning

and if you watch them

closely

you'll see

in their movement

that they are searching

for form

it's a purposeful dance

that resolves

as some sort of

coalescence

or aggregation

that says

"this is me"

or perhaps

"this is

recognizably

my self

as i imagined

i might be"

and at the centre of that dance

of whirling filaments

your soul

gathers

its edges

gains its worldly form

moves

and then

truly

moves on

again