Cosmic Tapestry

It hangs from the cosmos

to our world.

There are flowers in it, towns, cities,

streams, rivers and oceans,

small piglets, and moons.

A look to the corners…

Arrows flying on a charging cavalry.

In another, women bent low to harvest potatoes.

A closer look reveals a rabbit carried off by a fox.

A politician shouting his honesty.

An evil eyed preacher with a winning smile.

Mushroom clouds rising.

The last corner is trying to survive

with huddled masses seeking refuge,

fish and fowl bewildered,

beasts wandering a wasteland of greed’s destruction.

Who invented this woven historical warning?

What happens when the center of humanity’s deep sleep wakes up?

And what of minions denying the universes’ ever-changing weave?

Will men obsess on growing their beards,

shave their heads,

continue to become obese

so blending in will go unnoticed?

And the women?

Will they rush to the mall,

the beauty parlor,

or stand up and do some convincing?

Paternal tapestry is fraying.

Acceptance of maternal interweaving is the future.

Such a cosmos.

Such a tapestry needing repair.