Lines Live and Die

Lines are born; lines live and lines die.

Lines are stumbling children learning to walk.
Lines are carrier pigeons.
Lines are heartbeats.
Lines are old boots.
Lines are slow days and vast fields.

Lines are floorboards 
and barn doors.
Lines are strong or weak: bold, or frustrated and broken.
Lines meander too and fro, lost without reason, wandering aimlessly through a middle ground or they are sure and focused, cultivating and discovering, learning- and following through on their promises.

Lines are deep roots, dendrites and lightning bolts.
Lines are skyscrapers and snakes.
Lines are torn pages and cracked walls.
Lines are young women and aged men, folded maps and crooked houses.
Lines are cats, stretching, and curling back up.

Lines are empty chairs.

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