Going / Back

The present, is it like performing a
recital piece? Or like the way one knits
a scarf? Lithe armor wards the cold away,
each link a piece of all the whole, no slits
to break the one long thread of notes or yarn.
So much the same, with yet a difference--
a song must not be stopped, must always yearn
inside each dancing now, the dissonance
of error slid from mind already drenched
in this next moment. Knitting is not so.
One old, forgotten stitch means long rows wrenched
to crimped string till the cloth is whole. Each soul's
agape with stitches dropped and melodies
and hunger for the hope that never dies.