Filaments by Will Berry

Where do I stand?
Now in my winter of obstruction,
Gone are the fireflies of all summers,
A soul warm in those times and so free,
That meant so very much to me,
Now in the cold survival,
Where do I stand?
And I ask,
Where have they gone?
Friends and loves of softer and gentle times,
Do they miss me?
Do they remember as I have?
Perhaps their lives have gone on and on,
With no end, no chance of repudiation,
Then can they live in endless celebration.
And now I stand,
Needing only a single hand,
To hold what life now commits,
The thinly spun thread of filaments.

Martin Vann (63.208.43.181) -- Wednesday, February 19 2003, 08:49 pm

Life, a thin, spun line.
Will,

I appreciate your presentation, how life can be such a see through line. As you stated, you have looked and "seen through line," and wonder about all that it has touched. I to, think about those I knew, met and loved, wonder what their line, led them through. Memories, memories, ghost and demons, they can be. Still, I'll cast my fisherman's line into the sea of life, for surely, I have not reached the bottom of the sea?

Your poem, as it should, told a very, good story, just wanted to let you know, enjoyed it!

Thanks,
MartinV
P.S. Your first line, "where do I stand?" I think upon the shore, ready to cast that line, again.

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