to one stark
beam of light
as it pierces the dark--
it is the eye of the needle
demanding one point focus.
I roll my fingers
feeling for a thread,
something strong
yet tiny
like the lyric of a song
that I can grasp
between sweaty fingers…
push through
that beam of light,
that thread that binds
the essence of a dying life
to some unknown future time
when light and dark
again together play
on fields
or waves of dawn
as morning friends
and growth brings forth…
the darning
making one
of endings and beginnings
yet to come.
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