A Dream, Not a Prophecy

by Willow Rose

The complications of a life time
bound into a ball;
your life is a world-line,
serpentine stere-years
inextricably intertwined
with those of others;
Contorted, twisted, knotted
by the influence of bodies
drifting in space.
Where is it leading?
Where has it been?
Trace your path back
through four dimensions;
Trace it forward
untwisting, unwinding, untying,
until at last
the clouds of interstellar dust are parted—
the tangled mass is cleared.
Only then will you find,
the line you all along thought
was solely yours,
was mine.

©Willow Rose 2011

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