In this world where life is nothing more than a single thread. <br />It matter not what fiber that it is taken from. <br /> <br />The individual thread can not with stand the strain nor stress. <br />It can not endure the test of time nor is it strong enough, to hold together <br />the cause by it's self. <br /> <br />Thous when the thread is stretched to the point of breaking. <br />It is then and only then the Master Weaver sends his must trusted <br />apprentice down to collect them. <br /> <br />For they are now worthy of being woven into a fiber in the counterpane <br />of life. <br />That can with stand the test of time. <br />There he place them one by one on the loom of the living heart. <br /> <br />Laboring from dust to dawn. <br />He enter weaves each thread togather and the counterpane comes to <br />be<br /><br />jackie compton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-counterpane/
