Tapestry, the quilted patches of many textures.

A tragedy of past, a loss so heavy, every heart knows it's face.
So big, so undroppable, left for generations to bear, lifetimes of influence.
A monster who feeds on our generosity of spirit, leaving all the destruction such a feat could conspire.

A little girl with her basket, looks out at her world, looks out at her family and sees this and sighs...
Determined, she knows, this needs to be fixed.
Through the quiet hours of rejection, the even longer hours of recognition, she ponders, so long and hard.
Determined she knows, this has to be fixed!

A little bit older, she takes stalk of her basket, there was never much to share, not much in there.
Basket in hand, she looks out past the shore.
Determined still, the years just confirming, this needs to be fixed, this has to be fixed!
Basket in hand, she steps out past the shore.

In a pea-green dinghy, the oars in hand, the sun just rising beyond the land, this girl and her basket,
Went looking for what she thought.
A remedy of spirit, a creature of some sort who could devour the monster, a fix she knew was needed.
She went looking for what she thought.

A lot older now, she takes stalk again, noticing how heavy her basket had become, lots now to spare .
Her thought, is to give what wasn't there to share.
Allotments of kindness, compartments of stability proven to instill peace, hankies for tears, respect.
Her thought, is to give what wasn't there to share.

So here she is, so here I am, her basket is full, my heart is full, such a glorious, long awaited feeling.
Such a long awaited understanding.
So sure is she, that what she found, will not only devour the monster but plant a georgous garden too!
Such a long awaited understanding.

Once again she looks upon the shore, seeing the pea-green dinghy, she ponders its meaning.
I have to get in that, she says to herself.
Hoisting the basket she gives it a toss, to her dismay, it poked a hole in the dinghy! Hand on hip.
How can I get in that? She says to herself.

Hauling out her basket, she gives it a shake, laid out on the sand, each item with care and attention.
Refusing to admit a sense of despair.
Next came the dinghy, its pea-green so inviting, yet in such need of repair, still no despair.
Refusing to admit, there's no tools for repair.

Holy cow, she says when the dinghy's on shore, looking at her patch kit, a needle and thread, this just won't do.
You know, she says, I need some glue.
Looking around, up shore and down, she looks up into the clouds to query the universe for where.
You know, she says, she needs some glue.

From way out past the dunes, in the shimmering heat, a figure appeared, so dark in front of the sun.
Startled, she wonders if she should run.
She can hear a clanking and a clinking, not musical but soothing, got her to thinking, even if she is,
Startled, she wonders, where would she run.

Quickly and carefully, she repacks her basket, puts on the lid, sits on it to wait, chin in hand.
Closer and closer, it is a man.
Looking up to the universe again, she musses with her hair, all the time wondering will he understand.
Closer and closer, she's right, it's a man.

The figure, on the crest of the dune, grew so large, she closed her eyes and gripped her basket lid.
He, took over the sky.
So entranced by the sound, ears full, the universe, blew right threw her, she held on for the ride!
He, took her over the sky.

After the rush, long after the sound, she opened her eyes, looking down at her feet, toes tucked in the sand.
A tube of Crazy Glue! What a smile.
Up went her face, a look to the sky, with a wonderful shout, she said 'Thanks for the glue!', a hug for you.
A tube of Crazy Glue, what a happy smile.

Pulling close her dinghy, the tear pretty huge, standing up, she's off her lid, a little bit confused.
What else could she use?
She reaches in, the baskets full, she's wondering what, curious enough it's clothes pins, this will do she thinks.
That's exactly what she could use.

Lid replaced, she sat down to fix her pea-green dinghy, a slight touch on the shoulder, gentle hand, a knowing smile.
A woman stood behind her, tall, a Roman beauty
Artful folds and careful words, her hands showed the proper tucks to keep the water out, to keep her dry, to keep her safe.
The woman knelt beside her, such a Roman beauty.

For about an hour, they glued, tucked and pinned, the woman spoke softly, seeds of knowledge, till they were finally done,
Things to think, she thought and thought.
The woman stood, a soft touch on the shoulder, gentle hand, knowing smile, amazing understanding of the power of light, this beauty glows.
Lots to think, she thought some more.

Feeling rather tired, afternoon sun warm on her face, she rests her head at the edge of the sand under a flower.
A very lovely Lavender Orchid.
Eyes soon closed to the serf and sky, little smile, soft breath, the colour of lavender filtering through her dreams.
A very lovely Lavender Orchid.

Every so slightly, the flower bent closer, a petal, delicate touch on her cheek to impart the wisdom of recognition.
Clear vision of sustainable beauty.
Images that reflect her souls true worth and the true grace of the World's endeavour to provide, the reason the sun rises.
Clear visions of sustainable beauty.

Later, elbows resting on knees, so much she's learned, contemplation peaceful and heavy on her mind, eyes reflecting.
She looks out to sea, she sees.
Not wanting to rise, so much to do, no fear – just hesitation, the waves beckon to her to rise like the sun.
She looks out to sea, she finally sees.

He materializes as if out of the ocean, long beard, walking stick, wise old face, pockets full of time and its implications.
She smells, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.
He hovers in front of her, taps her with his stick, he speaks to her in riddles and points out over the waves.
She smells Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.

He speaks to her of Karma rushing back to claim her, of singularity of purpose, the truth of intent, of righting wrongs.
He reminds her of where she's going.
She finally gets up to pack her pea-green dinghy, her carefully collected bits of future change and growth.
Once again, reminded of where she is going...

The sadness involved in going against better judgement

Leaves open to ridicule, innermost personal knowledge.

Slams shut acceptance and throws it to the wolves.

Messages of need and hope lost to the translation of unacknowledged existense.

Left understanding the no, looking somewhere else for the yes.

The monsters are done and gone and the morning skies are a'dawning.

EU realities, still hopeful, more awake.

In the paragraphs of treaties I hear the vain legal attempt to word atrocities in ways that rationalize the truth.
In the face of the union of so many struggling countries going through the birthing of the continually evolving democratic mentality/reality, I see the - overwhelming at times - odds between the opposites.
At the hands of original intent - lost in creative, lucrative, dark motivations - lies all the potential that could remain long after the twisted interpretations, manifestations of artsy greed, get realized for what they are.
In the footsteps left to follow, the trail however curvey and steep, we'll find the direction to walk one thousand years or more. The proverbial walking a mile, or more, in another's shoes


Lavender, thanks

to you too May....in the morning we stand and tower over our demons and temptations, our devil. In the night, we lay down in submission and leave our senses to whatever devilment and merryment our resident devil's advocate desires.

The ever so beautiful quietness of sadness in all of todays comtemplations...in loving all problems comes the casualty of tears...soldiers of love.

Prettybirds wrote:

The ever so beautiful quietness of sadness in all of todays comtemplations...in loving all problems comes the casualty of tears...soldiers of love.

take a little "home-made" continental breakfast with season's greetings from heart to heart.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiJnUxaQbvA

(just showed, in stable white beauty, with heavy clouds brought by strong winds to pass underneath...)

"nothing CAN be known.."