We are connected You and I
like silver thread spanning memories.
Time wafts across those razor paths
In spiral waves of spiders planning.
With mundane approach we collide and stride
The ways of countless others.
Some we fix, and some go broke,
knocked about by alley cat whims.

Sometimes,
to open ones heart
we must first close our eyes.
Finally, we just might see
that our lives were never really about
the mirror, the pocket, the haircut, or the scales
but the starry breath that's given outwards
subtly illuminating the forgotten spaces
between the marks on the rule of life.
Counted simply in smiles, lost and lonely.
And who should stumble upon this
wisdom so battered and worn?
So old that the language it was first written in
has almost evaporated wholly,
bathed in the fires of what we have become.
Only the humble, the found,
the owl minded fool may tell.