Alt Text:
anime of a spider on its web with rain pouring in the woods.
Backstory:
The poem below was influenced not only by my Christian upbringing but also the constant awareness and thoughts concerning creation and the universe, including the origin of all we know and have yet to discover.
I likened the creation of our world to weaver's hands creating patterns that tie together. The ending connects our DNA to God and His Son Jesus Christ, and to His great plan and design, whether one views God's Love as motherly and/or fatherly.
Everyone has their view of how we came to be, but I enjoy contemplating the view from a Mastermind Artist's perspective.
How does the weaver weave?
Hands of beauty spun worn and bruised,
Sowing sinew and muscle tissue into the wool.
Pastille pinks and periwinkle blues,
A pointillistic vision,
Woven view.
How do I compare this to a moon-grey day?
​
Barely lit,
Sullen street lamps loom over.
Bent ostrich necks,
Forgotten and alone.
Is this not the view inside the weaver's home?
However,
Woolen thoughts warm the imagination.
A woman sitting there,
With a mother's care.
Threaded in with patience,
Is the soft feel of handmade clothing,
And tapestry filled halls.
Such is the meeting of masterful painters,
And masters of the weaving world.
Beauty,
Not made,
But woven.
From the fabric of our DNA,
We give back to the fabric of the world.
Connected,
Before comprehension,
Before birth,
And before blood.
What I would give to glimpse the fabric of love.
Would it be a prism of rainbows?
Soft and delicate, or strong and unbreakable?
Only love can unite two strands,
By standing loosely at opposite ends.
Humankind,
Strands that stand,
And fit together.
A puzzle piece or braided basket,
Built on the dust of others.
We are never gone.
We shed our skin to the mud beneath our feet.
It allows us to walk until buried in the sand.
Part of a Great Master's painting,
Is neither a cycle nor a tower,
But something in between.
Woven from the fabric of the Greatest Weaver's dream.
We are the Carpenter's table,
Laid bear.
The masterpiece
He refuses to share,
But does not spare His body to treasure us,
With the utmost of care.