Log Poem #2: Tied

Pulled along through Time's hands,

Watching, leading through embodiments of Life.

Their hands pull up and down on thinning bands,

Lifting, bobbing the body towards the afterlife;

Strings that lift and pull,

Thin wired, hard to see.

Hard to fall and lull,

They must be in glee.

No string attached to the neck,

But, to arms, legs, and middle.

Fingers that flick,

Out of boredom or out to dwindle.

Shadow hider up above,

Lifting arms and making them dance;

A size that fits in their glove.

Prance and jump within balance.

A snip, the invisible lines left to break.

Hand in front of them held to,

Taken in gratitude with a trembling shake.

What has happened to you?