The Weaver

when life conspires

to throw you into

the liminal space

occupying that window

bounded by

the no longer

and the not yet

your senses switch

to full alert

sight sharpens

sound permeates all

vibrational frequencies

play in the spaces in between

you smell blossoms

from centuries ago

and different continents

to the one your feet

are planted on today

a witness forms


just watching

as the truth slaps

hard enough to wake the dead

breaking open the illusion

that you have any say in this


you do however

get to choose how you roll with it

a pair of oyster catchers cry their plaintiff cry

birds out of time and place here

and this an echo that connects up dots

invisible threads

that sparkle and glow

as they weave your consciousness whole

merging into the fabric of it all

the deft touch of the great weaver at play

all is as it must be

the cloth is being made

weft and warp over time

ebbing and flowing

as the tides of your life

3 thoughts on “The Weaver

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