Unravelled

By Myself as it were
11-7-09

A single strand
Carries the theme
Woven by heavy hands
No thing of any beauty

Weaving in and out
Desperately leaving traces
Fear, pain, doubt
Issues, people, places

Leaving snags, leaving knots
Laying waste in its wake
Its purpose long forgot
No purpose does it make

The strand is woven in
Ensuring its signature
Too tightly to dislodge within
The ridicule and the censure

Oh to have a Scissors sharpened
And new threads of beautiful kinds
A tapestry no longer darkened
Unravelling in a hidden mind

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