An Extract of Unfinished Tapestries
Waves of crimson & red lost amongst love & heartache.
Patches of green woven between hope & faith.
Shades of blue canvasing moments of clarity, rebirth, belonging.
Deep yellows of fear & caution, broken hearts & broken souls.
For these are the tapestries of life, stories, adventures, heartbreaks;
One that we all begin, some that will never be finished.
Look closely at those that are unfinished, and you will see black threads;
In an ode to their souls, these threads come together and end abruptly;
Signifying journeys begun and finished too early.
The black fabric, poignant amongst the vibrant silhouette of colours.
Look closer and you can see colours that abruptly end;
Loose ends and unfinished patterns;
Frayed ends that loosen with each passing day.
These are the souls that keep on living, but have already died;
Embers that tried to burn through the darkest of days;
Only to be washed out by the rains & storms that never stopped.
Our souls can be so fickle, yet so strong.
They can take so much pain, so much struggle and so much darkness;
And still keep burning, lighting the darkest of blacks.
But even then, we are fickle creatures;
Unlike the stars and the heavens, we are finite.
It is only our hubris that we think we will rise again;
And rise we do, even when our embers struggle to keep burning.
Imagined outcomes to give us reason, conviction & afflictions/
Contemplated achievements to give us faith, belief & hope.
Better futures to give us fuel to add to our burning embers.
Optimistic dreams to make it all tangible, real & possible.
We hold our souls close to our hearts and heads;
Carefully working on this fine tapestry of art & life.
We mend those parts of us that don’t look right;
We try and cover those parts that feel broken;
We try and divert attention from those parts that can’t be fixed.
As if our soul is at its purest, the only form of reflection and confirmation that we are worth something; That our adventures and experiences, shortcomings & salvation are still possible;
However ugly and broken we may find ourselves and the situations that grace us;
That our tapestry is beautiful and will continue to shine, just like our hopes.
But amongst the sea of vibrant colours, beautiful fabrics and exotic designs;
There are those that seem to have been left half unfinished;
These frayed corners, unfinished embroidery and disjointed designs;
Left to the harshest of winds and most treacherous temperatures;
Surely one must ask what happened to these tapestries;
Those that end so abruptly, making us see the unfilled void;
The heartaches, the pain, the realisation that life is so fleeting.
For when we are told that these tapestries are all but alive;
It makes us realise that the lives we take for granted are so fragile;
Why does it make us feel so lost and uncertain when we realise the finiteness; Of our lives, our stories, of our joys and our achievements.
Those that do not anything more to give, to create, to cultivate.
A fate worse than death, one where living becomes devoid of hope for something better;
The hearts that beat to breathe and no longer to love and feel the joys of life;
The hearts that are only but canvasses of regret, loss & colours devoid of light;
The hearts that once peaceful, but now no longer recognise the word;
The hearts that are maddened, reduced to unutterable ignorance, dark and cold;
The hearts that will never bloom, even with the greatest nurturing & sustenance;
The hearts that are darkened, seared with scars, both healed & never.
The hearts that once prayed. but now who’s souls are gone, forever banished in purgatory.
The hearts that beat on, but only to exist and not to live.
These unfinished tapestries are the darkest ones;
Where colour has lost all meaning and vibrancy.
Even the tapestries where black threads come together to signify the end;
Come alive with their own vibrancy and meaning;
For at least these have meaning and a story to tell.
These frayed ends are lives that have no meaning;
For the embers no longer burn, and maybe, they never will again.
