There is this twine which binds us,
one to another.

We attach ourselves, with adolescent aspirations,
along with multitudes of others.
We pull and tug to gain a bit of slack,
then lose it to another's pull and tug.
We tow the line, in unison, at times.

Idle hours, wandering along, just to see,
who else belongs,
Where it leads, how it works, why it exists.

Late at night, all is quiet, this strange sight;
the twine, it moves, untouched !
Unseen hands, from long, long ago;
Existing hands, from far, far away;
still pull, tug, and tow this line.

We detach ourselves, in some years hence,
We trail a string, from our past whence,
We become this twine, in our ever sense.

There is this twine which binds us,
one to another.