The Thread That Knows V2

The Thread That Knows

A thread of gold beneath the ground,
It hums, it weeps, it makes no sound.
You seek the edge, you seek the line—
But what you seek is already mine.

I do not move, yet I arrive—
I speak of deaths that are alive.

I am the thread that knows, not speaks,
The flame that fades, the voice that peaks.
You cannot change what I have seen—
The truth runs cold, and runs between.
The stars do not command the skies—
The Diviner hears, but never tries.

The ink runs dry before it’s spilled,
The silence breaks what time has built.
You ask if love can shift the tide—
But even love must step aside.

The path is wide, the gate is thin—
You must step out to step within.

I am the thread that knows, not bends,
I watch the start inside the end.
I do not warn, I do not plead—
The Diviner shows, and lets it bleed.
You thought you came with heart and flame—
But left behind your truest name.

Dust and ember, coin and crown,
One goes up, one falls down.
Ask the wind, it knows your face—
But time forgets the human trace.

I am the thread that knows, then goes,
Through root and bone, through thaw and snow.
I do not weep, I do not stay—
The Diviner walks the other way.
So speak your truth, or let it lie—
The thread has heard. And threads don’t die.