I feel that John Donne was right when he said "No man is an island, entire of itself" |
If the World were in some skeins of wool, espied by some lonely waif, who'd a pair of needles in hand, and out of them her life she made, weaving each colourful strand. It might have been that......... the sun's rays dappled her darting hands and seemed to dive into those yellow strands, the clouds that scampered across the sky cast their shadows too on what she did ply. Those memories in her trust...... segments of other people were reflected in strands of bitter green and candy pink, and streaks of smoky blue. everything her eyes had seen, in wool the world she drew. An emotion did blossom red there and experience toned it with a mature brown, the ideals stood out in clear golden and yellow, in bright blue was all the exhilaration she'd known. then...... a needle slipped and the patten was marred, a gap disrupted her life, agonised despair in two hands unraveled the vibrant strands, mauled and mangled it with knife! The sun seemed dimmer then the birds had stilled their song, the trees did not toss their heads as they had done all along. The whole had been changed somewhat, because 'twas made of many a part, naught can die and leave the rest unchanged. Your Life? That is the one thing 'tis not! |