Knots and ropes......A Quiet belief in angels....

I take a moment to look back across the span of my life, and try to see for what it was.
Amidst the madness that I encountered, amidst the rush and smash and brutality of the collisions of humanity I have witnessed, there have been moments.
Love. Passions. Promise.
The hope of something better. All these things.
This has been my life.
A life spooled out like a thread, strength uncertain, length unknown; whether it will cease abruptly or run out endlessly, binding more lives together as it goes; in one instance more than cotton, barely sufficient to gather a shirt together at its seams, in another a rope- triple woven, each strand and fiber tarred and twisted to repel water, blood, sweat, tears; a rope to raise a house, to fashion a ships keel, to hoist a sail.

Time travels straight as a hopeful fishing line, weeks gathering to months gathering to years; yet, with all this time, a heartbeat of doubt and the prize is gone.
Special moments - sporadic, like knots tied, irregularly spaced as if crows on a telegraph wire - these we remember, and dare not forget, for often they are all that is left to show. I remember all of them, and more besides, and sometimes wonder if imagination hasn't played a part in designing my life. For that's what it was, and always will be: A life.