Threads (poem)

Threads

Could we but give our souls a voice

Loud enough for those who doubt to hear

We'd sing of summersongs within our hearts

Hearing them echo in return.

But soft words

Sometimes become weapons

Turned against us by those we hold dear

We watch our worlds crash around us,

Left to sweep up the pieces.

The threads that keep us together are thin

Woven in strands of fate and chance

A web which bends in the breeze

But is rarely strong enough

To hold against a fleeting wind.

Yet fleeting winds and fleeting moments

Are all we have

And all we cling to.

Forever hopeful

That those moments

Will never end.