The Exile Journey of the Loose Thread

From a distracted temple margin,
a single thread ventures into flight.
It seeks no nest, knows no temple now,
but dances airy, an ephemeral pole.

A spiral in the air, without weight,
catches a ray, a micro-rainbow.
Its path, fragile and suspended,
draws nothingness, a barely full sign.

It cracks no wall, nor does the rock carve,
leaves no trace, whispers no name.
Just an instant, and the shadow swallowed it whole,
a tiny journey, without any means.