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Found:
The Thread.
 
Seemingly a point of connection.
Weaving each.
Together into form and being.
And together.
Connected to each other.
Yes.
But that, surprisingly, is not the point.
Not the purpose.
We don't need.
A single thread.
To bind us.
 
The power of the thread.
Shines.
When we are ready to come undone.
 
The thread.
Itself.
Is inconsequential.
Unneeded.
Unnecessary.
I know this is not what people want to hear.
We want a piece.
Of something.
To hold onto.
To make this all real.
The power.
The knowing.
The pain.
Real.
We want.
To grasp to a truth.
Rather than leap.
Trust.
Know.
 
The thread is found.
Most often.
Wrapped around your breath.
That spot.
Where the flow hitches.
Just a bit.
Just enough.
And you can't deepen into the river you know.
You know.
You know.
Is there.
Just beyond your fingertips reach.
 
The thread is found wrapped around your breath.
And at some point.
The longing to sink into the promised.
Bounty.
Aches more than can be held.
And so you pull.
At the thread.
Pull.
At what has held you together.
Because it is no longer a balm.
Protecting your new skin from the wind.
Its woven itself into an armored wall of seemingly everything.
Ever.
And it's keeping you.
From what is there.
Waiting.
 
So.
You pull.
Slowly.
Slowly.
At first.
Because who knows.
What happens.
When you are no longer holding yourself together.
Who knows.
What happens.
When you come undone.
 
But once.
You dip your being.
Into all that lives.
Just beyond your reach.
Once you have a taste.
In the freedom that comes.
In the unbinding.
That happens.
When the thread is pulled.
And the tethers are shed.
Once you know.
That you are everything.
Without needing it proven.
By all you can hold.
There is little stopping anyone.
From unraveling.