Twas a dark and lonely night
And all the world did sleep
When through the mudcat black hole
The missing thread did creep

With the grace that comes of caution
The missing thread did tread
As it determined with a vengeance
Better dead than read.

As gutters watched and slimy rats
Pursued the random roach
With midnight stealth the jaded thread
the cemetery encroached

And down that long and weary route
Past many headstones grey
along faded paths and winding thoughts
the missing thread did stray

and lay itself in a quiet place
to ponder, all alone
why words are written in the sky
or carved into stone

to be itself, the thread divined
was a moment, peace to be
without the posts of a million thoughts
tattoo'd like a memory

a vast, unfolding, memory
of a million different minds
speaking, shouting, arguing
they are the posts that bind

and the thread went quiet, what was best?
To hide? Alone to ponder?
Or to wind and unfold on an unknown path
With company to wander..

And so the thread rose up and turned
And back to the lights did tread
Deciding that, for future it was
Better read than dead.