Tapestry
Some seek success and some seek fame.
Some call it by another name.
Let me remind you, they're not the same.
Some take the credit, some take the blame
for the way
they play
the game.
I call it life, it puzzles me
I ponder it continuously.
Perhaps life wants us all to be
great cooks combining ingeniously
the elements of creation.
Or perhaps the situation
is we're all standing in a band.
(producing music hopefully,
trying or not, as fact might be.
perhaps to please a deity
which is perhaps ourselves.)
Perhaps we're standing in a band,
(it's just a thought, you understand)
Some talking, some playing.
Yes Lord, some praying.
Some standing rigidly,
some wander aimlessly
Some losin' it.
Some usin' it.
Some tryin'.
Some dyin'.
Some playing the music faultlessly
with clarity and purity.
Listen to the music.
Look at the mosaic.
All who were are and will ever be
form intertemporal harmony.
It's confusing to us, 'cause we can't yet see
the final shape of this tapestry.
By blind poet
© 2009 blind poet
(All rights reserved)
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