Threads

am I well, am I not well, 
is the day light or 
is it dark - are those 
clouds I see out there or 
veils before my eyes - 
am I thinking, or am I 
not, lost in a
maze of threads and alleyways 
with no clear path out?

are these questions in the day 
real? or am I merely 
reeling with the weight of 
my own years, drowning 
in the memory of 
my own tears, lost 
in the black wood of 
my own experience - width

throws out more 
problems than it solves, 
and you cannot climb 
into a box 
you no longer fit

is it sunny, is it
cold, do I need a
coat and scarf, am I
well today or
am I ill or
can I tell the
difference now?  the seconds tick

and carry me
despite divergence, convergence,
the uncertain weathers
of the mind

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