It Weaves.

It weaves and surrounds me,

Lifting hairs on my neck,

Sending the tingles down my spine,

That set me trembling.

It flows and comforts me,

Warming my skin,

And stroking softly down my arm

Telling me not to worry, not to cry.

It controls me,

Lifting the wet from my cheek.

And sending it spiraling downwards,

Landing and staining the dirt.

It sings to me,

Warning me of its intent,

And telling me to close my eyes

As it howls and shakes in misery.

It lifts me,

And tells me there is no more pain,

Not as long as it is there,

To hold me, to touch me.

It follows me,

An invisible dark shadow

That watches and strikes those who cannot see,

Who do not know its vigil over me.

It watches me,

Both dark and light and translucent,

It watches through the night and day,

To see it all change and move away.

It wanders and holds me,

My only comfort, my only friend,

It waits for me to need it,

And it catches me, tightly around me.