Weaving mysteries to life in holy repose:
The golden, glint thread that moments enclose;
Shining light on the deep-crimson binding cord;
Leaving questions behind like scraps to be stored.
• • • •
Intricate beauty designed above is seen
In ugly, knotted tangles when viewed underneath.
The pattern is hidden in mystery's pain;
This paradox echoes life's unending refrain.
• • • •
Dark threads of sorrow are passed through the loom
The empty silence of sadness, cold like a tomb,
Sharpens the senses for the bright threads of joy;
The intertwining story that darkness cannot destroy.
• • • •
Tears may exist in this tangled world's mess
Sense may be the disguise for only a guess
Peace shall be found in leaving the mysteries to be---
All that a mystery is before eyes of faith see:
• • • •
Wisdom beheld in the golden thread's mystery,
Grace bestowed in the crimson cord's history,
Mercy transforming the dark threads of suffering
To glorious, dazzling beauty in mystery's uncovering.
• • • •
The secret of providence cannot be unravelled
And sorted and studied and logically traveled
From the beginning of one thread to its end
For they all intertwine in life's loom to blend
• • • •
The darkness, the joy, the sorrow, the light
Into a work that shines all-gloriously bright
To display the wisdom of infinite love
To show the beauty of seeing life from above.
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