lines in colour...stained
the threads
of connect...a yarn
concocted...spun and twisted
and hung dry
a bleached harvest
sorted...neatly combed...
my fibre seedless
its pristine exist
a sterility of being
nakedness...dressed suitably...
in opportune colours
bound by strings
of attachment...worn
to please and cover
in nuanced veils
as thoughts...amourously weave
in shadow realms
cross-pollinating the new
as undercurrents stir
in embedded swirls
perpetual searching in hope
seeking subsumation
in multifaceted melds
calls...in crossed connect
as greying hungers
thrusting deep into its earthy roots
of dour brown
staining the virginal white
of wounded feelings
stained by red bleeds
as slash and flow
drain moral colour
as innocence sinks
to ends of funeral black
a pale exist
of gloom...edged with blue
memories twinged
by tinkling laughter
silenced
by the yellown glare
of courage...eclipsed
as storms cloud
the sun kissed days
knotting its weft of light
within the warped denial
of dark confine embroidering
the tapestry
I lie in...enfolded in layers
the weave of words
buried...within its body
a shroud reflecting
in stasis...lost to generations
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