this strand
this dimension existing
within and without
wrapping around
the then and now
the never and forever
(in curls of warm hue
a vagueness of blue)
is a free-spirit
and
this strand
this dimension existing
within and without
cannot be snapped
contained or constrained
it cannot be
embraced or erased
it cannot be
it is beautiful
this strand
this free-spirited dimension
which curls and wraps
and keeps me warm
it is beautiful
this love I have for you
~ Sandie Zand, June 2011
sandie zand 
I like the sound of this poem. Together with the image it brings to mind the last few lines of Little Gidding.
Thanks, Pia. I do love Little Gidding, though am certainly no Eliot myself, alas! But your mention of it reminded me how much I love the Quartets and sent me back to re-read. I'd forgotten this verse, which I think quite lovely: Who then devised the torment? Love.Love is the unfamiliar NameBehind the hands that woveThe intolerable shirt of flameWhich human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.
only a genius can express it like this …