looking for something
patterns imposed
on a sequence of time
formless as a dressing gown
falling to the floor
...patterns
in gray narratives
our stories become fish wrap
bones and heads
soaked and stinking
greasy-shrouds gathering the dead
...patterns
warped on the loom
each thread...a spun-line
each frayed end...a lost potential
cut and discarded
our poor cloth unravels its secrets
the lure of moths
sewing eggs in a basket of yarn
patterns of rebirth
...patterns
in the trackless sea
each fleck of foam...lensing infinity
inscrutable as Brachma
lacrimae mundi
the dew in Maya's lashes
each salty droplet
sweet with sorrow
a shimmering Atman
