The self that wasn’t / by Zander Ford

This Self,

I thought was

Was not


Threads of others

Woven into me

Stitched so delicately


Now

Weaver’s Son

I learn


Their time has come

To be un-woven

Undone


Instead

I choose

To thread strings of grace

Of ease

Acceptance

And Daring

To Embrace


To hold others

As my lovers

To share time

In dance

And rhyme


To spread joy

Peace

Happiness

Love


Oh,

Radiant Spirit Force

Sent here from above


Time to share your gifts

They’re ripe

The fruit falls heavy


Share,

And be wealthy