A poem about understanding the pattern in our life...
Threads
Time weaves a tapestry through life
Of love, of joy, of sorrow, and strife;
Unweave the rainbow, at a peril cost:
All shall be undone, all shall be lost;
So we reach instead to see the whole,
As if to find a way to though to control,
The weaving threads of life; But not so,
Because threads tightly bound just so;
Form one pattern, and we are too close
To grasp the whole. Ambition grandiose,
But doomed to fail, because of chance,
Plays a random factor that can enhance;
The pattern in ways unpredicted, strange,
The even order is broken by this change;
And we can only understand, apprehend,
When it is completed, at our very end.
THE WEAVER
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Written by B.M. Franklin (1882-1965)
My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaves so skillfully.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not ‘til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reasons why-
The dark threads are as needful,
In The Weaver’s skillful hands
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.