In the bare bones
of a waking day,
I sit.
Still.
War and rumors of war advancing.
Overtaking.
In the bare bones
of a waking day,
I sit.
Still.
War and rumors of war advancing.
Overtaking.
Dabbling in the Word of God.
Searching for a verse that fits. And serves my agenda. It happens.
Comfort levels sometimes dictate this. Looking for a way to stay. Or leave.
Wanting His Word to match my ways. My methods.
And back me up.
Colorful skeins of thread surround him. And neutral strings on the loom show no pattern to follow. As far as I can see.
But the old carpet maker knows.
Thread by thread. Hour by hour. Day by day.
He works the loom, creating a rich pattern. A map of threads he already had in mind when he started.