Beautiful poetry, elise! This deserves a bump.
The Weaver
Ever diligent at His loom
A tapestry He weaves
He does not focus on the threads
But the tapestry to be.
Adding a silver thread of talent
Or maybe two or three
Each tapestry is different
Each beautiful to see.
The Purple threads of compassion
All in different hues
And varying degrees of wisdom
In shades of green and blue.
The reds are threads of courage
From vivid tones to pale
The whites are strength and valor
Pulled taut to tell the tale.
The gray threads speak of trials bleak
And the blacker threads are loss
When more strength is needed
Round the white ones these emboss.
Past the darkest threads transcend
The yellow threads of joy
Interwoven with family and friends
Their brightness does employ.
Back and forth the shuttle flies
Interweaving strands of gold
As wonderfully and magically
The tapestry unfolds.
The perfect golden threads of love
Hold a mystery tis true
Each single one that is given away
Is soon replaced by two.
We cannot know how fine will be
The fabric that He weaves
He does not focus on the threads
But the tapestry to be.