a skein of words
words, such flimsy things,
arrayed, alone on a page,
what can they hold within
the frame of letters and spaces as loose as a net
cast out
not knowing what can be seen through the weave
perhaps they carry some intent or, maybe,
merely sieve the air
such a fragile stance the fisherman
reaching, arms outstretched,
as though to embrace the rushing sea
the net, a falling shadow
my words fly out
a shimmer in the air, then fade beneath
I watch them sink and hope
and with hope draw them in again
how full of wonder
we stand before the immensity
and believe
