There is a tread that passes
invisibly
through time.
A long, intimate lineage that is often of the blood
yet just as often not.
It reaches out from one of us to another
though love-
shared desire-
a compulsion-
for the weaving of the fabric of our lives.
Once traditions dictated
the passage of those secrets
and rites of legacy.
Today it is happenstance.
Yet still it occurs.
In my life I stand at the middle ground.
I have seen with the eyes of the eager- the hungry- the awestruck.
And I have seen with the eyes of the aged master-
Guiding- gently- the youthful hand.
It’s about how human kind preserves legacy- perseveres- survives.
It’s about life.
It’s about passing it on.
Passing on that of true worth-
on- down the long invisible thread-
woven through the fabric-
of time.