Breaking Line

It stretches east then west. Then, any point beyond me; pulled taut to keep the slack  from breaking free. Who kept the line before I was or held the twisted ends wrapped around the cold steel shaft that binds me? Must I consider days before and, now considered by them? Come, take the lines away. Release me from the keeping. Untethered, let them blow wet, then dry now soaking... rotting in the baking sun but, blown by winds no matter. Only let them blow through me again.