Grasp those thoughts.

For the field floated free and untethered,
As if in space,
And were they to reach the edge, there would be never time
To stop them before they fell.
Hence I watched and waited and listened;
And tried so hard to be there;
Before they went tumbling away into the precipice beyond.
For once they fell, there would be no recovering them,
They were gone.
Gone but not forgotten..

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.