She gently holds the fibres of the past
She chooses which to use and which to leave
Surveying all she holds within her hands
She pinches, twists and twines to hold it fast.
The fibres spun into the yarn she’ll weave
A tapestry like vast and varied lands.
She’s in control and yet she knows not how
Designs, details and colours will emerge
A fabric woven for the test of time
And yet perfection she cannot allow
Mistakes and thin thread bring her to the verge
Where she will meet with wisdom in its prime.
She is the Weaver of her Destiny
She spins the threads she weaves into her life
She holds the threads of lessons not forgot
Decisions and her choices set her free
She trusts that it will all come out all right
For she’s in control and yet somehow she’s not.