Connection

We move along
Floating or merely submerged
In the clutter and moving sea
In the light visible
Sometimes clouded
From view.
Connected to this world
We bump along
Sometimes encountering one another,
Then moving away.
The old game
Six degrees of separation
But not Mr. Bacon
We find each other
Through the friend of a friend
Through yet another,
To find ourselves here
Washed up and waiting
To be burned or created
Into a new piece
Of art.
The invisible thread
Captured and tied
Connected.