I Long

I long...
        To scratch my name into the crystal glass of the sky
                in letters we have forgotten how to read
        But it is just so many futile knife blows
                against granite

                To gaze into the clear water of the Sea
                        and ponder what is beneath the surface
                Blurring and changing shape
                        what, is that our future?

And in pondering what I am, what I will be
        At a crossroads,
                do the paths fork out in all directions, reaching into infinity
                or is there only but One Path, though the turns be many

                Is it mere chance that the outskirts crowd everything in
                or is the Center holding everything together
                        like a spider or an octopus
                Tendrils, tentacles pulling inward
                Everything trapped in its grasp
                        Nothing, no, not anything, is ever lost.

X marks the spot, two dark lines on an otherwise
        white sheet of paper
        Misgivings in my heart beg me to turn the page
                But I must write, write
        Until the letters blur together
        A story becoming a string of lines and circles
                Everything coming together
                into a tale of my weaving
        And time will tell, and time will turn
                until but a scrap of this tale story remains
        a pale shadow, a weak echo
                into the hands 
                        of another (spider) writer, reweaving what was woven and broken
        And you will see, we will see
                that nothing, no, not anything, is ever lost