by Susan Bain
Friday, March 02, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
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I move at the mercy of the winds and the moon,
Cycling without volition,
Yearning for the nameless,
Weaving blindly in a web
obscured by cobwebs,
Sensing a rhythm that falters, resumes, shifts under my feet.
Random strands glisten in sunlight,
evanesce in moonlight,
offering glimpses of pattern.
Child? Mother? Crone?
To what purpose?
I long for vision.
But the weaving of the tapestry goes on
in faith and love.
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|Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson
|loved it tradition carried on|
|Reviewed by D Johnson
|Tapestry is nicely written...with vivid images nicely spliced together for a perfect fit.
|Reviewed by Art Sun
|A nice work of thought and a view of this tapestry of life...nicely woven words and expressions.....
|Reviewed by Susan Sonnen
|You have used imagery splendidly in this poem!|