It starts with a thought, a question we all ask.

Whats the meaning of this story? What’s the point of this trap?

The liminal fog we all walk in blocks the answer from our sights.

And the questions that we ask, make no sense in dawns first light.

we beg for answers, then reject what where told.

Heaven, Hell or the void alone.

We think in lines, when the truth is a sphere.

We scream “why?” But can’t accept; we’re here.

We dont fizzle out, We scatter like the stars.

Infinitely woven through the weave like memoirs.

Our threads may fray but in the end,

we are woven in, again and again and again and again.

We’re the ripple in the water, the knots in the thread.

Even where we are gone, what we are is not dead.

We exist in the tapestry we all unwittingly design.

Our connections are eternal in the expanse of all existing time.