lines inside

This being in relationship is not the imagined string tied to a young girl's finger, tugged by a future mate clutching the other end. If two hearts pull at equal strength, drawing themselves up from the darkness with every intention to travel closer to something encompassing and lasting, what of the beautiful web that the spider weaves in all directions to catch the sun, disappearing eventually in the breeze? 

Is that not love, delicate strands fixed to the wind? 

Sometimes [all the time] the string frays. 

And then we are to weave once more with the silk inside, 
tethering to a locus of tenderness. 

Let me be the web: 

strong as high-grade steel

long enough to encircle a heavenly body

capable of stretching four times my length

tough enough to suspend this heart over the world.

The Journey - 

David Whyte

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life. 

You are not leaving
you are arriving.