Life on the Loom

Set upon the Weaver's loom,
Threads of life are wound together;
The dark, the light, the in-between,
Are intertwine forever.

White threads of joy, Yellow of hope,
Crisscrossed by threads of Black despair;
Gray threads of foggy indecision
Beside the Pink of those who care.

Light Blue threads of carefree moments
Twisted into worry Red;
All that is seen is just a mess,
Mismatched threads to the loom are fed.

Dark Blue questions o'er the whole,
Seeming hope in Green illusions;
Tied and twisted in a knot.
What is left is deep confusion.

"Not till the day the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly;
Will He unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why."