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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

My Closest Enemies

I can hear you.
Shift, click, lock. 
Shift, click, lock.
Shift, click, lock.
Tap, tap, tap. 

"Loosen it!" she cries.
"Too much. Too heavy. Too tight."
The argument begins...
The triad of angst spins and 
weaves the needed venom - 
in an ancient tounge I strain to understand,
and struggle to repeat.

How many? 
How much?
What colors?

The shuttle flies.
The warp tightens.
The loom grows weary;
pregnant with the growing tapestry of my short time here.

I can see you.

Looking at the back of my existence 
in your skilled triad view,

Can you tell, Sister?
What the pattern is on my side of the loom?

Can you tell, Sister?
What that one dropped weft strand will cause?

Can you tell, Sister?
How many wefts and warps in one life?

The value is not constant; I am sure.
Neither is the number of weft or warp.
How do you decide, my Sweet Triad of Enemies,

Whisper if you must, but tell me...

Who wears the wool?
Who wears the flax?

And when shall I grow cold and loose my cover?

We trust you because you Are. 
We have no other; you are All.
Tell me, does that affect your end product?

Or just mine?

© 2005 Jessica Martin

Image: from Janet´s Viking Website

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