Lost...
more lost
than for a long time
in the pattern
that I built,
pretty and neat
for my eyes and
theirs.

Twisted strands catch
and pull at each other
for freedom
for power
for love
for life
And I stand
slack-jawed and
powerless as my
pattern tears itself
to pieces, the weave
will survive, if not
as neatly or cleanly
as I planned or hoped.
But we are Bound (as much as
we think we're not)
by strings that tie to
our very hearts and souls.
Knotting them together
as twisted and convoluted
as they may be.

AcB 8.25.99