The Thread (A Poem)
The Thread
By Graham Kirk-Spriggs
I am but dust, a spec, a thread,
weavéd through the tapesty of all the universe,
a floating head.
weavéd through the tapesty of all the universe,
a floating head.
I am but dust, but never apart,
but a part of all,
as we float on this ball through time,
space, adventure!
but a part of all,
as we float on this ball through time,
space, adventure!
I am but dust, formed from it,
seeped, surrounded.
I have been where feet have trod,
from clod to clod.
I am but dust, made of my Mother's roots,
and hers before her,
rude and bare, and blustering through all
that is vivid and once was.
and hers before her,
rude and bare, and blustering through all
that is vivid and once was.
I am dust in this space.
Gimme that rainbow star shine,
moon filled, sweet sherbert.
moon filled, sweet sherbert.
I am but dust, in this frame now,
but more ever and ever, and forever.
but more ever and ever, and forever.
For I am you, when love calls.
I am but dust, you are me,
I am you, for we, have always been.
I am you, for we, have always been.
You call me into you.
Love more powerful,
than dust.
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