
Knot
Take the ends and pass them
Left over right,
Then under, round, and through,
And pull them tight,
And friction does the rest
Between the coils, between the strands,
And even between the fibres –
Like a thousand tiny hands
That hold us back
And stop the world from unravelling.
Sometimes it feels like we’re held in place
By nothing but well-bound string.
This has such a beautiful strength to it.
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Thanks. All those years in the Cubs finally came in useful.
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Lol, I’d think an experience like that would come in handy for many reasons!
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Perhaps, but I never was a survivalist at heart. Pity there wasn’t a poetry badge I could earn.
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That is a pity! Give it a few years though and that just might change..
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Well, I do now !
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