SOUL HOME

Today, the cords just want to be cords and the beads, beads.

A pause in time; fingers basking in the autumn sun like lazy nursing sharks...

No cutting, knotting, weaving, typing, thinking.

Oh but the mind she never stops. She summersaults, works out a knot.

Frets over what she owes to be and she is not

I push my lazy little fingers into action.

Cut, knot, weave, type...think

All one should be and one is not.