The Diseased Imaginings of a Tainted Mind
Cobwebs and Peace
Aged hands, gently weave, sat on hard-backed chair,
practised hands create cobwebbed beauty.
Scarfed tied firmly against the gentle cold,
Her bright-life filled eyes smile through olive-skinned face,
The lace her fingers create weave through her life,
A memory of peace-filled longing for a simpler time,
To simply be.
Carved wooden bobbins hold the fine cobweb in place,
The anchors of a life, thin and beautiful,
Searching for a pattern in maddened day to day,
That the fingers gently knit,
The divine beauty only truly visible,
When you are left to simply be.
Years pass, and this Aged-memory comes,
A part of the journey in the cobweb of life and place.
Tools laid in a box waiting for one day, one time
When the sun shines silver, and tide turns,
A young woman’s fingers begin to gently knit,
Searching for that divine beauty,
Seeking to simply be.
Inspired by Cobwebs and Peace : http://iggandfriends.wordpress.com/2012/11/04/cobwebs-and-peace/
November 5, 2012