POEM: The Fabric and the Weaver

Updated: Dec 2, 2019


Tufts of trees and grass of wool

Mountains of curves and corners

Silky seas that hint an Earthy, molten core

The Weaver sits, threading life reborn

Frays of color intertwine

Yet often fight for space which lies

Often burning and cooked and seared in fire

Which blotch themselves upon the woven pyres

The Earthy flesh, destroyed

Losing Her guiltless fibers

But of all the chaos and fire and smoke

The Weaver stays Her one true post

And affixes strains of concurring color

A course of fibers, constantly burning

A rhythm of threads, constantly churning

Eons of strands, of tangles and smold’ring

And yet

the Weaver strives

to forever tie the fabrics

Of Her most precious Work

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