And I weaved

And i read one poem
after another;
several poems-
some about love,
some about dreams-
kept on reading,
one after another.
I was looking
for some loose
end of thread
somewhere;
to pick it
and weave something
in this thin air.
I weaved and weaved,
and somewhere,
it lost form and shape.
There were too many
loose ends;
lacking coherence,
some found it
as broken apart,
in pieces
and a few could see
what resonated
throughout.