Poetry: The Needle Knows My Name by Bruno Wilson
The Needle Knows My Name
Rhythm is broken.
Existence, a degree of separation.
An observer of fate.
Lost, is the path back.
It is here...
The needle calls my name.
Sirens towards the rocks.
Restraints are paralyzing.
The tunnel has no light.
Hope is not a word.
It is then...
The needle calls my name.
Present needs to shift.
Something has to grow.
Nothing’s not the answer.
Time must stand still.
It is when...
The needle calls my name.
Universe needs reminding.
Connections lost to be mended.
Journeys need beginning.
Conscious needs provoking.
It is why...
The needle calls my name.
A puzzle full of fractures.
Empty yet complete.
Stitched together with moments.
A thread is drawn.
This is how...
The needle knows… who’s name to call next.
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