Beam, a poem

"Beam", by Jody Gladding

How is it I'm becoming particle
solid tool with a few odd uses
even as I'm honed to nothing
more than gesture—wave
or stride, shrug, stutter?
Resolute contradiction, I'm worn
so smooth by now I should be able
to explain everything. So what
is it that escapes me, that
on good days, lifted and filled me?
Because that's what I
would have called light.

Stride : She strode purposefully up to the desk and demanded to speak to the manager. 

Honed :  "a honed knife is easier and safer to handle than a dulled, nicked (= scratched) blade" He perfected his work over time and delivered "a finely honed performance".

Other ways of walking?