From Where I Sit

From where I sit, above the  earth,

I see the way the threads weave through

the tapestry; each knot and stitch

is planted with a plan in view.

When down below, my eyes don’t sense

the way the Artist plots and schemes;

the colours clash, the pattern fights

against itself in rowdy seams.

But if I lift my gaze aloft,

appraise the whole from ladder height,

my heart is thrilled to see the plan

that weaves me in, with threads of light.


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Image courtesy of PHOTOSTEAM

Structure is crumbling.

Like shark to blood, you circle,

Sensing and feeding on weakness,

Delighting in predation’s power;

You press your attack

With peace treaty crumpled underfoot,

Mounting ladder to scale boundary hastily erected.

Had you come

A humble visitor to doorway,

I could have extended the invitation

For tea.

But when my sentries spot your ladder,

They sound the alarm

And hunker in bunkers to repel another