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One to spin the thread of life,
One to measure its length
One to snip when our time is up.
When the veil between worlds thins,
When the Owl shines on you with both her eyes
you shiver my blood.
You who yanked me by my umbilical cord,
from my mother's womb,
you who measure and count my days with finger songs,
weaving and creating my path and my days,
you who sharpen your blade on a whirring wheel,
waiting, to you I bow.
I dream you show me the dark side of the spinning moon.
I go to my loom, like Spider, and weave silk with your whispering words
To my sisters and brothers, this offering, tensile, light-filled.
The Earth is a skein of Silver Thread,
Delicate, intricate and in danger.
What are You Weaving?
We are all connected...whether wild animal, farmer, writer, musician, factory worker, all are connected, all are part of the tapestry that the three Fates weave daily...connecting the threads of our lives with the threads of Mother Earth, our Furry companions on this land, the sisters and brothers in and out of the Path we choose to walk, all are connected, all are woven in the tapestry and all are responsible for its creation.
I, for one, will try to make my threads without pain and suffering and judgment.